


House of Fraser

by PhaedreCameron



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fashion and things I know nothing about, Fluffy sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-09-12 03:43:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16865491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhaedreCameron/pseuds/PhaedreCameron
Summary: Jamie Fraser is a fashion designer at a London fashion house.  He is in a relationship with Geneva Dunsany which is in difficulty.Claire Beauchamp is engaged to Frank Randall, who is a rich businessman keen to impress his fellow company directors and shareholders.  He wants a high profile wedding just before Christmas, so he arranges for Claire to have a wedding gown designed by Jamie.  In order to make a carefully fitted gown, Jamie arranges a number of personal fittings.





	1. Helwater Fashion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheKingParrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKingParrot/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [TheKingParrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKingParrot/pseuds/TheKingParrot) in the [Outlander_holiday_prompt_exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Outlander_holiday_prompt_exchange) collection. 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie Fraser has his life sorted. He’s achieved his career ambitions as a fashion designer and his love life is as it should be. Or is it?
> 
> Note: This work includes various topics of which I know nothing. Fashion, fashion design, wedding dresses, medicine. I made it all up. :-).

_Click clack_ _click_.

James Fraser looked up from his vintage drafting table.

_Clack_ _click_ _clack_.

Jamie put on his glasses and examined two swatches of fabric to his left.

_Clack_ _clack_ _CLICK_

Jamie knew there was no way to avoid the maelstrom. He turned just in time to see his girlfriend of near to three years barge into his design studio on the outskirts of London. “Did you see this!?” demanded Geneva Dunsany. Her outstretched arm held an iPad Pro. Jamie already knew what he was to look at.

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser had just survived his first season as a lead designer for William – the couture division of one of the world’s great fashion houses, Helwater Fashions (HF).

Geneva impatiently shook the tablet in the doorway. Reluctantly, Jamie rose to meet her. His stride momentarily faltered when he saw her outfit. It was the definition of unflattering; too short, wrong color, wrong season, too tight and the shoes. The shoes were 4.5 inch stilettos for which the cliché _money_ _cannot_ _buy_ _class_ _was_ _invented_.

Frustrated by his slow progress, Geneva click clacked her stilettos on the cement floor until she reached Jamie. “Who the hell does he think he is?” She was indignant.

Jamie grabbed the iPad. “G, it’s only a bad review. One bad review out of dozens. Black Jack loves to be a contrarian.”

“But he’s so influential! Look at what he wrote, ‘With James Fraser, the once strong English brand has rolled into the muck and peat to create a vision devoid of passion, life, or aspiration.’”

Jamie smiled. They’d met at Paris fashion week three years earlier. Jamie had been trying and failing to find entrée into the exclusive world of high fashion. Surprisingly, his looks has been the biggest hindrance. No one believed a farm raised Highland Scot, built like a Viking warrior, would possess the _sensitivity_ required to design at such a level.

Jamie had chanced upon Geneva outside a Paris bar. A bar serving as a pre party location for all the important players in fashion. After a brief conversation, the two entered a pack of mutual assistance. Geneva, the great granddaughter of HF’s founder and junior marketing director, needed to prove her mettle, and Jamie needed a chance. They’d been together ever since.

Jamie knew their relationship wasn’t a great love affair. He preferred it that way. In this business he’d seen many a passionate person laid low by the fickleness of the heart. They had an arrangement. Jamie trusted Geneva to do right by the art; the art he weaved through fabric. And what was that, but a form of love?

Lately, however, Geneva had been disrespecting their division of labor. She was increasingly encroaching on his creative process.

Jamie reached to comfort her. She immediately flinched back - batting at his hands as though they were a swarm of irritating midges. Jamie sighed. Sometimes he wished she was more comfortable with affection - giving and receiving.

“Did John forward you the Randall proposal?” Geneva was on to the next topic.

“Aye.” Was she determined to completely sour his mood?

John Grey was Jamie’s assistant and life saver. He kept the day to day running so Jamie could focus on the clothes. He often served as a buffer between Geneva. John would weed out her more ridiculous suggestions, such a line of tartan clothing covered with  
representations of haggis, kelpies, Nessie and Burns’ quotes. Jamie literally had nightmares over that one. _But_ , John had actually passed the Randall proposal to Jamie.

“And?”

“Aye, I looked at it. But a wedding dress? HF has never done weddings. And I’m ‘no sure I’m interested.”

Geneva began to speak slowly as though Jamie were a simpleton. “Fraser, everyone who is anyone will be at this wedding. Celebrities. Politicians. Royalty. Business people. Influencers!” She stepped closer, put a hand to his chest, and stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

If this would keep her away from his new designs, it would be worth the trouble.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll have another look.”

“Brilliant! Because Randall and his fiancée will be here Thursday at 2. I’ll tell John. Cheers!”

Jamie felt his temper flare.

“Geneva you canna—“

“Mr. Fraser, what do you think about paisley? Too on the nose?” Jamie’s intern, Jeremy Foster entered carrying fabrics. The interruption was enough for Geneva to escape. She blew a kiss over her shoulder as she click clacked down the hall.

**********  
Jamie stood at the kitchen counter of his London flat. He’d prepared himself a simple meal of grilled rosemary chicken and steamed vegetables. He could think better when he stood. His habit of eating while standing drove Geneva mad. He smiled to himself, almost wishing she could see him now, but thankfully neither had ever broached the topic of living together.

His laptop was open to Frank Randall’s wikipedia page. Jamie knew of Randall. Everyone knew of the man. A venture capitalist who made his money in the pharmaceutical and green energy industries. He’d recently started his own company to produce homes and cars that ran completely from solar power. The IPO was rumored to be right after Christmas. And Randall’s wedding was set two days before Christmas.

Hmm. That would give Jamie just over three months to design the gown. He still wasn’t sold on the idea, but the potential benefits were undeniable. So were the risks. Jamie typed _Frank_ _Randall_ _fiancée_ into the search engine. There were hits about the wedding, Frank Randall and his company, but no picture and no name of his bride.

Odd.

He then tried _Frank_ _Randall_ _girlfriend_.

No hits.

Hmm

Jamie opened Randall’s proposal. It contained the wedding announcement. There he found her name at least— Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be around 15 chapters. We’ll see how it goes


	2. An Unpolished Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie meets Randall’s fiancée

” />

“He’s here, but the fiancée is running late,” John Grey stated as he poked his head into Jamie’s office.

“Ah, ok, I’ll go back to the studio until she arrives,” Jamie replied.

“No, Randall said he wanted to start. I’ll show her back when she gets here.”

“Oh.” Jamie pulled off his glasses, grabbed his sketchbook and Randall’s proposal. He brushed his hair behind his ear. He wore his hair slightly long; the deep red locks curling slightly at his nape. Jamie usually wore old jeans and T shirts around the studio, but for the Randall meeting he chose a pair of fitted gray trousers, a crisp pale blue Oxford shirt, his Fraser tartan socks, and brown leather lace up boots.

Jamie followed John into the conference room where Frank Randall awaited.

“Mr. Randall,” Jamie smiled as he extended his hand.

“Mr. Fraser, good afternoon.” Randall’s handshake was firm. Jamie observed his wardrobe was that of a man 15 years older than his apparent age. Jamie motioned for him to sit.

Randall wasted no time, “Mr. Fraser, this wedding is very important for me, my fiancée, and my company. I’m sure you understand the importance of image and branding? My fiancée’s dress needs to be remarkable in every way. Understated, but bold. Classic, but forward thinking. Traditional, but modern. Timeless, but trend setting.”

Jamie didn’t dare glance at John for fear of loosing it on the spot. He cleared his throat. “I see. Well, I’ve brought some exemplars..”

“I’ll get tea,” John exited faster than was necessary.

Jamie had laid out several of his sketches by the time John returned with the tea and a woman. Jamie squinted in confusion.

“Darling, Claire, come sit.” Randall directed at this woman.

She came forward. It took a second for Jamie to realize this was Randall’s fiancée. She was wearing medical scrubs and trainers. Her head was adorned with an obscene mass of unruly brown curls barely contained in an off center bun. She held her mobile in her right hand and the strap of a well worn leather cross body purse slashed between her bosom.

John cleared his throat.

Jamie immediately stood and introduced himself. When she shook his hand he caught sight of her eyes. He couldn’t even name their color. They were like the autumn turning of the leaves; brown and yellow, crisp and fragile. There was a quiet strength in her carriage.

“Look at these, Claire.” Randall began to show her the sketches Jamie had prepared.

Jamie cursed himself for his preconceptions. He’d subconsciously assumed Randall’s fiancée would be of the trophy wife variety – barely legal and full of silicone.

“Hmm. This one’s nice.” Claire turned the sketch toward Jamie.

“Aye.”

It was the embroidered satin column dress. The one Jamie was partial to as well.

“Nah darling. It’s too old Hollywood wannabe starlet.” Randall frowned and gently pulled the sketch from her hand.

Claire simply smiled and sat back in her chair. Randall pushed three of the sketches toward Jamie, “these are promising.”

Two were V necks and one heart shaped strapless. Jamie couldn’t see much of her figure, but he knew none of those would suit her.

“Well, these are just common styles. I wasna sure of Ms. Beauchamp’s measurements or…” Jaime glanced quickly to Claire, “…body type. Different styles generally work with different shapes. I’ll have an assistant take measurements…and perhaps a few photographs?”

“Oh, god.” Claire smiled at Jamie as she tried smooth her hair. “This was not the best idea after spending the night in the PICU.”

Jamie’s curiosity piqued, “what is it ye do, Ms. Beauchamp?”

“I’m a pediatric oncologist. And please, call me Claire.”

“I’ll have to start sending her prepackaged meals to the hospital. She has a tendency to miss meals when she gets over involved with a patient,” Randall patted Claire’s hand. “We can’t have you losing weight once these measurements are taken.” Jamie saw her wince at his words, but then turned to smile at Randall.

“Any theme or specific preference, Claire?” Jamie asked.

“Our professions are very important to us,” Claire said to Jamie, “and the ceremony can help Frank, so however you two think the dress should be, it will be fine by me.”

Once again, Jamie cursed himself. He didn’t know much about brides. His sister’s wedding had been a low key affair. He just assumed the woman would be more interested in the dress.

“Alright, well with the measurements, I’ll prepare more detailed sketches. Ye’ll have to come back for fittings. The dress will be tailored specifically for ye.”

Jamie noticed a pink tinge to her cheeks, but assumed it was the tea. He stepped out and found John in the hallway. “Get Marsali to take Claire’s measurements and bring me the camera, aye?”

John raised a brow at his boss, “Marsali can take the photos.”

“No, no. I’d prefer to do it myself.” Noticing John’s look, “this account is important. I wanna make sure I got everything.”

Jamie and Randall stood off to the side while Claire’s measurements were taken. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Mr. Fraser.” Jamie tried to keep his smile pleasant. “Here,” Randall pulled cards from his inside jacket pocket, “these are our business cards. Claire’s schedule is erratic so best email her directly about the fittings and cc me any designs or photos.” Jamie noticed a third card. “Oh, that’s our wedding planner, Mary Hawkins, in case that’s of any use to you.”

Jamie nodded. He knew it was none of his business, but couldn’t help himself. “How’d ye meet?”

“Pharmaceutical conference. She was excoriating a rep regarding a faulty drug efficacy study.” Randall smiled. “I knew she was an unpolished diamond.”

Jamie tried to puzzle out his meaning, but Claire was walking toward him. “Are you taking the photos?” Claire pointed to the camera Jamie was holding.

“Aye. Just stand over by that window.” She did as directed. Jamie raised the camera and heard Randall near his ear, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Bye, darling,” Randall shouted to Claire.

At that moment the camera clicked. Jamie would keep that photo for the rest of his life. He’d keep it in his phone, on his desk, on their bedroom dresser, he’d show it to their son at his wedding, and he would pull it out when he held his first grandchild.


	3. Moi Aussi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire are curious about each other.

“ /

“Ah, yon wee beasties! Dinna work him up!” Jamie shouted at his nephew and nieces. He took five long strides and caught wee Kitty’s hand just before she pulled puir Fergus’s ear off. “I told her, Uncle Jamie. I did!” stated his namesake. Jamie barked out a laugh looking at the earnest little face of Young Jamie.

Jamie had taken Friday off to watch his sister’s three kids for the long weekend so she could celebrate her wedding anniversary. Jamie readily agreed. God knew he owed Jenny and Ian. They’d supported him emotionally and financially during his lean years in fashion. Jenny defended him to their parents when he moved from Scotland to London to Paris to Milan to New York and back again to pursue his dream. Jamie always knew he’d lead a life different from other men. He remembered the time he showed up at school with his homespun designs for the annual Christmas play. Jenny had handed out quite a few black eyes in his defense that year. Well, once Jamie hit puberty, his size ended those concerns.

“Yon hellions were all responsible for it. I was sitting right there.” Jamie pointed to the park bench he just left. Young Jamie simply shrugged, looking exactly like his mother. Jamie shook his head. “Here, come,” he scooped up Maggie in his strong arms and grabbed Fergus’s leash from Kitty. “Time for lunch.” That elicited a chorus of agreement.

Jamie got them settled in his flat; watered and fed. He quickly scratched Fergus, his 1.5 year old Rhodesian Ridgeback, behind the ear. The dog squirmed affably and went back to protection duty of the three Murrays.

Jamie collapsed on his couch, he loved them fierce, but lord, they were a handful. He’d no clue how Jenny and Ian managed. He’d never seriously considered having kids. His life was just too hectic.

He reached in his pocket for Claire’s business card. When they parted yesterday, she told him to contact her on Monday. That’s when she’d better know her schedule. Jamie knew he could have left that to John or Marsali, but for whatever reason he wanted to do it himself. His thoughts seemed to drift to her. He’d already sketched out several designs that night and this morning.

He pulled out his phone to compose an email.

 _Dr_. _Beauchamp_ ,

No. Delete.

 _The_ _future_ _Mrs_. _Randall_ ,

No. Definitely not. Delete.

 _Sorcha_ ,

He chuckled. No, delete.

 _Claire_ ,  
_This_ _is_ _James_ _Fraser_ _from_ _HF_. _I’ve_ _attached_ _a_ _few_ _rough_ _sketches_ _and_ _a_ _schedule_ _for_ _fittings_ for the _upcoming_ _weeks_. _It was a pleasure meeting you and your fiancé. I look forward to working with you in the design of your perfect dress.  I’ll wait to hear from you._

Jamie pressed send before he could talk himself out of it.  
******  
Claire was at the hospital completing patient charts. It had been an exhausting few weeks. She was deeply concerned about Elias Pound. The young boy was extremely ill and she was running out of treatment options. She put her hands to the small of her back and looked to the sky. _You can only do so much Beauchamp._ She grabbed a granola bar and sank into a sofa in the resident’s lounge. She liked to hide out there and think. She glanced at her engagement ring. After 3 years, it still sat awkwardly on her finger. It was not what she would have chosen, but Frank had it specifically designed for her. It was a small concession she thought. He’d wanted to marry two years ago, but he had agreed to wait while she finished her second fellowship. She knew he was anxious for children.

Claire pushed the thought away and fished in her pocket until she pulled out James Fraser’s business card. They’d exchanged cards upon separating. She smiled to herself. He was very handsome. Very. Also, very polite and professional. She remembered the pictures he took of her. Always kept his distance, always kept his eyes in the right place, always made sure another woman was within earshot, always made sure she was in control. Before she’d even left the studio he’d given her access to a shared cloud drive where he uploaded the photos.

But he had to be a cad, he _had_ to be. Looking the way he looked, in his profession, surrounded by attractive women all day. He probably had a dozen flings going at once. Claire pulled out her phone for some casual cyberstalking. _Hmm_. Nothing salacious. No pictures of scantily clad women hanging on him, no wild photos from Ibiza, no string of broken hearted starlets, and no personal social media presence. But he did have a crafted image. It was the artistic enigma. And he did have a girlfriend. Claire saw photos of them at industry events. They worked together. _Hmm_. Claire started to google Geneva Dun-

“There ye are!”

Claire jumped and dropped her phone. “Damn! Geillis! You scared me half to death!”

Geillis, a pediatric nephrologist, was Claire’s co worker and friend. She eyed Claire and took a seat.

“Ye look guilty, what were ye doing? Looking up porn?”

“Don’t be absurd. I was… checking the weather.” Claire had no idea why she lied.

“The weather?!” Geillis snorted, “it’s London – it’s cold and dreary.”

Claire reached to pick up her phone. She had a new email.

“Well, when yer done checkin the relative humidity, I’d like yer opinion on a patient.” Geillis stood and sashayed out of the lounge.

Claire went back to her phone and saw the message was from Fraser. A small smile appeared on her face. She’d been dreading the whole dress situation, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She quickly typed out a response.

 

_Hello Mr. Fraser,_

_Thank you for the sketches. They look wonderful. I’m sure the finished product will be breathtaking. Regarding my schedule, it’s probabky easier if we text. I’ll include my number and of course I’ll be in touch early next week for the fittings._

_Claire._

*******************  
“Dinna tell yer parents or all ye get is Brussels sprouts next visit.” Jamie was wiping vanilla bean ice cream off of Maggie’s forehead. _How’d it end up there?_

“Yes, uncle,” they responded in unison.

Jamie’s phone chimed and he read Claire’s email. He quickly added her number to his phone. His brain registered the silence and he immediately looked up. He half expected his charges to be sticking a fork in an electrical socket. Instead they were all silently looking at him. Even Fergus came over.

“Whatcha playing, Uncle?” Maggie asked. “Can we’ lay?” Added Kitty. Young Jamie peered into his uncle’s face, “Da gets the same look when the MacKenzies agree to watch us and he and Mam stay home alone. Is this what they do? Play a new game.”

“Uh. No,” Jamie sputtered, “this is for work.”

“Ye play games for work?” Young Jamie’s face let up.

“No. I dinna….look..help me wi yer sisters and ye’ll get two stories before bed time.”

***********

With the Murrays down for the night, Jamie pulled out his sketchbook. He should be working on the spring line, but his mind was on the Randall project. He heard a noise and saw Young Jamie peeking around the door. “Couldna sleep, little man?”

“Nae, I dinna need as much sleep as the girls.”

“Is that so?” Jamie tried to hide his smile. He held out his arm and wee Jamie quickly scrambled on to the sofa and snuggled into his side. The boy would never admit this had happened, but it was nice for him to be a laddie for a little while longer. Young Jamie reached for a photo of Claire that sat on the coffee table. He stared hard and long. Jamie roughed his nephew’s hair, “what ye thinking?”

“I like her,” replied Young Jamie.

“Ah, me too.”

 


	4. Un Dono

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire goes to Jamie’s studio for the first time.

 

/>

“Jamie! The Randall fiancée is here.”

“Her name is Claire, Marsali. Send her back would ye?” Asked Jamie.

He turned back to his table. He had several fabrics laid out in various colors. He began his mental checklist as his eyes scanned his workspace: satin, taffeta, silk, charmeuse, brocade, sheer, lacy, ivory, light gold, neutral.

His fingers tapped a tattoo on the table as he sought to calm his nerves. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first runway show. He fiddled with his collar. He was wearing well worn jeans, a burnt red v neck sweater atop a white Oxford, both rolled up at the sleeves, and his lace up boots. He was sporting a few days stubble.

After several minutes, Jamie looked toward the entryway. He walked into the foyer. Marsali pointed to one the siderooms. There he saw Claire speaking on her mobile. Her back was to him, but from the set of her shoulders and the movements of her arms, he knew she was angry.

Her hair was in a low ponytail. She was wearing a leather jacket, a fuzzy knit beanie and light weight wool trousers. He knew he should leave and give her privacy, but he felt rooted to the spot. Abruptly, she turned and saw him. He meant to apologize, but he caught sight of her face. Jamie pushed the door fully open and was at her side in an instant.

“Claire, are ye alright?”

“Ah, Mr. Fra—“

“Call me Jamie.”

Claire brushed an escaped curl from her face. She looked up at him, smiled, and slowly backed away. Jamie realized he was all but on top of her and had lightly gripped her elbow. He immediately took two steps back. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didna mean.. I thought…”

“It’s alright,” she readjusted her cross body purse, “my job.” She shrugged. Claire expected him to drop the matter, but he stood his ground, waiting to see if she truly was okay. “I…one of my patients is very sick,” she explained, “his only hope is an expensive experimental drug, not approved in the U.K.”

Her face was like quicksand, he could read all her emotions as they formed, coalesced, and dissipated. He saw her fear, hopelessness, anger, and determination.

“The hospital is trying to convince the family that conventional treatment is the best course, but they’re wrong. Just bureaucrats more interested in cutting costs and forms in triplicate!” Claire’s fists curled.

Jamie took one step closer. He noticed a small cluster of silver hair near her right temple; the strands threaded through her curls, hiding and peeking through like a swirl of cream through coffee. “Dinna doubt yerself, I’m certain ye’ll persuade them.”

She looked somewhat shocked by his statement. “You have a lot of faith in someone you just met,” Claire replied.

“I know things and I’m a good judge of character,” he gave her a half smirk and bumped her shoulder.

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked into his face. He smelled earthy…sandalwood maybe. He’d grown a bit of facial hair. He really could model his own clothes. She quickly looked down when she realized she was staring.

“Have ye always wanted to be a doctor?”

“Yes. Always. It’s the only thing of which I’ve ever been sure. And to help children…. to see them endure such horrible pain when their lives have just begun,” she shook her head, “I was born to it I suppose.”

Jamie watched as the same stubborn curl fell to her eyebrow. He fought the urge to brush it from her face. “It must take a lot out of ye, to give so much of yerself to help. The bairns are lucky to have ye.”

“Well, it’s my job. No different than anyone else’s, really.” Claire tried to brush off his implication.

Jamie scoffed, “the skill to save a child’s life? ‘Tis a gift Claire, truly.”

Her face seemed to light up at his words. Jamie realized, inexplicably, that she wasn’t used to being complimented. She smiled and looked away. When she looked back at him, Jamie knew he had been staring longer than could be considered polite. He turned and grabbed a clean sketchbook and pencil that was sitting on a table. Seeing Claire’s curious gaze, “I keep em lying around. Ye never know when inspiration will strike,” he gave her one of his half smiles. He sketched for 30 seconds or so while Claire tried in vain to see his work.

“Shall we?” Jamie moved to the door.

Claire began to follow. “Will I see those?” She pointed to the now closed sketchbook he held in his hand.

“Possibly,” he teased. Jamie couldn’t show her the sketches. The sketches were designs for the spring line, not her gown. Looking at her had dislodged him from the rut he’d been in regarding the line’s direction.

Claire shook her head at him, freeing more curls, “Alright, this will be a good distraction,” she said without thinking. “Oh god.” She cringed and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that this,” she motioned to his studio, “isn’t important…that what you do—?

“Dinna worry. I understood yer meaning. I may not be saving children’s lives, but I’d like to think I bring a bit of joy into the world.”

He turned and Claire followed him down the hallway.

Claire was soon distracted by his studio. It was enormous. There were huge windows and skylights. She saw long tables covered in fabrics, scissors, measuring tape, pins and that was just what she could identify. There were large standing boards covered with clothing designs. Some were hand drawn, others computer generated. There were mannequins and cameras. The back wall contained a row of large screen desktops.

“Claire, you remember John? He and Marsali will be assisting periodically.”

“Um, yes, hullo.” Claire’s head continued scanning the studio.

Jamie felt an unexpected pride at being able to impress her. She started to wander between the tables, Jamie carefully following behind. “Did you design all…of this?” She waved her hand in the air, her engagement ring glittering in the natural light.

“Mostly, but it’s a team effort. I oversee everything. Set the theme.”

“It’s amazing.” Awestruck, she turned to face him.

It was the first time he’d seen her true smile. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, “thank ye.”

She stopped at the table where he had laid out the fabrics.

“Is this..?” She looked at him for confirmation.

“Aye, feel them.”

She ran her fingers along the fabrics. There was the cool smoothness of satin, the rough snag of embroidered lace, and the uneven bumpiness of an embellished bodice.

“I don’t know where to start,” her voice low.

“That why I’m here. Come.” Jamie winked. Or she thought he winked, it was more like he blinked both eyes. She laughed as he directed her to a wooden step placed before a floor length mirror.

She stepped up and Marsali removed her jacket, revealing her plain black t shirt. Jamie came by her side. While on the step, they were at eye level. His deep blue eyes swimming with mischief.

“I think the color is the first decision,” Jamie stated as he brought the fabrics near her arm, “look at these.” Claire looked at the fabrics in the mirror as he brought each close. “Yer skin is fair…almost pearl like. This would suit ye best.”

She shyly touched her neck. “Oh? And which color is that?”

“It’s a shade of ivory, called ‘forever’. Though... light gold and champagne are also options.” He stepped back to grab more fabric. She peeked at him in the mirror. With his jaw set in concentration, he was completely in his element. She could easily imagine him spending his days and nights here, lost in a frenzy of creation. That passion and calling to a vocation was something Claire understood well.

“Also yer quite tall,” he was saying. He was walked behind her and raised his hands. “May I?”

She nodded. He gently grabbed her ponytail and deftly pinned her hair up; his fingers grazing her neck as he did so. Claire felt the hair on her arms raise at his touch and wondered how many models he had done that for.

“Ye’ll want to show off yer neck, maybe?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but grabbed a sketchbook and began scribbling. He’d look up every so often, furrow his brow, and keep on scribbling.

Claire thought she would dislike being stared at and fussed over like a toy doll, but she felt…excited. A sudden energy hummed throughout her body. She twisted her hands and sighed with relief. She knew Frank worried about her lack of enthusiasm for the ceremony. She assured him she wasn’t a ‘big wedding ceremony’ type, but secretly she worried also. The pressure Frank was under was enormous. He needed her to be present for him on their wedding day; be what he required. She owed him that. Perhaps with Jamie’s help, a little piece of the wedding would be hers also. That would make it easier.

Jamie held out his sketchbook. “What do ye think? Would these suit ye or…Frank?”

She gasped as her hands swept over the pages.

“Yes, yes, they’ll suit.

 


	5. Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire tries on her first dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been commenting, kudoing, and following!!! 💕💕💕♥️♥️♥️ You guys are the best.

” />

“So, I’ve been waiting for my thank you,” Geneva purred in Jamie’s ear.

They’d just shared a conflict free dinner at the bistro near his flat. He hung her coat as she entered his kitchen. Her back was to him while she disturbed his fruit bowl.

“For making you see sense regarding Frank Randall,” she added. He could tell from her tone she was tipsy and horny. “Why is it such a secret?” She asked, turning to reveal the top three buttons of her Dolce blouse were undone.

Jamie walked past her into his living room. “Randall doesn’t want the dress revealed until Claire walks down the aisle, that’s the secret.”

She scoffed, “But why can’t _I_ see it?”

“There’s naught to see. Yet.”

“Fine, but I need to see the gown before it’s delivered. I want all the press releases and descriptors already written.” She followed him into his living room, discarding her heels as she sat next to him. “Ugh!” She pulled one of Fergus’s dog toys from beneath her arse. Jamie chuckled and grabbed it from her. Fergus had taken to hiding in the spare bedroom during Geneva’s visits.

“Well, what’s the fiancée like? Bridezilla?” Geneva had placed her hand on his thigh.

“Uh, no. Easy-going.”

Geneva moved her hand to his crotch. He grabbed her arm, “No, I’m no so much in the mood tonight.”

She suddenly sobered, “What? Since when aren’t you up to shag? Why’d you let me come up here?”

“Ye _can_ visit for a reason other than sex, G. I’m tired.” Irrational as it was, he felt angry. Then frustrated. She was right. Visits to each other’s respective flats meant sex. “I planned to be exclusively working on next season’s clothes, not also designing a high profile wedding gown. And I dinna need to explain myself.” He stood and placed the dog toy on his mantle.

“Fine.” Geneva began buttoning her shirt. “I’m taking an Uber home.”

******

Claire was staring at a framed picture on the wall of Jamie’s studio. Just as she moved to get a closer look, she saw Jamie watching her from the entry way. He was clad in dark denim jeans, classic converse trainers and a beige long sleeved henley shirt. He was dressed like any number of men Claire could pass on the street, but there was always something… elevated about his clothes. She imagined his girlfriend to have a wardrobe full of glamorous clothes that she could assemble with ease.

Claire pulled at the hem of her fitted burgundy turtle neck. She was never much for fashion, but she didn’t want him to think she was completely lacking in style. She convinced herself that spending over 45 minutes deciding on her turtle neck and black pencil midi skirt was justified so she wouldn’t appear useless and unable to help with the dress.

Jamie approached, smiling as he carried two cups of tea. “I didn’t see you there,” Claire said in greeting. She gratefully took the offered tea.

“Hmm, weel I wanted to give ye time to form a proper opinion.” She followed his gaze to the framed picture. It was a model wearing one of his designs. The dress was short. It was a series of frilly polka dotted overlapping sections. The very top and arms were a black mesh. She looked back to him, then to the photo, and back at him. His eyebrows lifted awaiting her response. Her mouth fell open, she closed it. She tried again, “it’s interesting…looks delicate.” She immediately took a very long sip of her tea.

“But you dinna like it?” He pressed.

She shook her head as her face was buried in her mug. He laughed, “aye, yer not the only one. That’s why I keep it there.” Seeing her perplexed look, “that was my first design. Ever. Had it in mind since I was a wee lad. When I started at HF, they told me not to show it. I did it anyway. It wasna well received and I dinna care. That dress got me where I am. Sometimes you go yer own way and sometimes ye need something just for yerself. But, ye ken that also?”

She nodded, “yes, yes I understand that.” She looked back at the photo and smiled into her mug, “but… I would have made five of them, in five different colors then.”

“And shown them all?” Jamie asked, smiling.

“Yup,” she gave him a proper wink.

He laughed, “come, I want ye try on the first dress.”

Claire felt that welcome frisson of excitement. 

Marsali helped her into the dress and she stepped before Jamie. She let out a nervous laugh. “So?”

Jamie stared.

“Will you bloody well say something?” Claire pulled at the sides.

“Ye look…it looks... bonny.” There was something about the tone of his voice she couldn’t understand.

He circled her and then stopped behind her. She saw his hands rise and their eyes met in the mirror. She slightly nodded, giving permission to his silent question. He grasped the strap on her left shoulder to adjust it. His fingers were warm and large. He had a surgeon’s touch; gentle, but firm. His hands moved to her waist to inspect the meeting of the fabrics there. The top of the dress was in the style of a fitted tank top. It was to be overlayed with an elaborate bead embellishment. Incomplete as it was, the top of the dress was rather sheer. Jamie could see the outline of the dark blue bra she wore. Jamie’s head swiveled as he looked for Marsali. “Claire, I’d like to see the dress as if you were wearing a strapless bra. I dinna ken where Marsali put them. Can ye move the straps down a bit.”

She felt her pulse quicken. “Sure.” She tried to hold her hands steady as she lowered the straps.

He stepped back and nodded his head once. She couldn’t tell if he liked the fit or not. His face was completely closed to her. He slowly began to circle her once more. Claire desperately wanted to follow his movements and hear his opinion, but she forced her head forward and remained silent while he inspected the dress.

Its bottom flared out in overlapping sections that attached to the waist at 45 degree angles. He kneeled behind her and fluffed out the sections. He slowly rose and brought his hand back to her waist to cinch the dress. He stood motionless behind her, his face hidden from view. She waited. And waited. Finally, she felt his knuckles graze her spine as he adjusted the back. He stopped again. His fingers lightly resting at the bottom of her shoulder blade.

It was a struggle to keep her eyes from closing at his touch. She felt a now familiar thrum of excitement. It was like she had awakened from a long slumber to find her body capable and powerful with the pulse of life. She wasn’t so detached as to not realize what was happening. She assumed this was part of it; a seduction of sorts. He was helping her to create something that was at once very public, but also intensely intimate. She had to give of herself for it to work. They had to connect. He must have felt this a million times.

Jamie came around to face her. “How do ye feel? The feeling is the most important part.” His eyes were as clear as the cloudless sky.

“Good. It’s the most ‘fairytale’ of your designs.” She held his gaze and submitted to the pull between them.

“Aye, do ye think Frank would approve?” He reached for a camera.

“Possibly, but I want to try the others as well.

“Aye.”


	6. A Good Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie fights fate

” />

“Hi darling. Hope…working…hard.” Frank’s voice cut out and warbled through the bad Skype connection. He was in Dubai for the next 2 weeks on business.

Claire’s laptop was balanced on her lap as she sat in bed. She smiled and waived, hoping her image would go through. “Yes, even eating!” She yelled into the screen.

“Excellent!” was his reply, though his words and mouth didn’t match. “I’ve seen…. dress designs. It’s going…. jealous. You enjoying…..?”

“Yes,” she answered truthfully, “I like helping with the dress.”

Claire walked into the studio and grabbed the tea waiting for her. Jamie had agreed to an early am session to accommodate her schedule. She found him hunched over his drafting table, glasses on, pencil behind his ear.

*****

“Hullo.”

Jamie placed his pencil down and smiled, “Claire, good morning.”

She stopped for a second, her grin matching his lopsided one. It was an amazing skill, she thought. To make a person feel special when they were just a client. He looked at her as though she were the best part of his day. She brushed a curl from her brow and moved further into the studio. He was wearing a zip up hoodie, skin tight synthetic compression work out pants with running shorts over top, and trainers.

“Sorry, I run in the mornings. Reckon I’ll go after we finish up,” he explained.

“Oh, we could have rescheduled. I-“

“Nonsense, Fergus wanted a late start.” At his name, his dog came from an unseen location to greet her. “Do ye mind if he stays? He knows what I do for a living. He stays away from the clothes.” Jamie gave Fergus a pointed look.

“Not at all, he’s beautiful.” She ran her hand through the peculiar backward facing hair on Fergus’s back. The dog wiggled with pleasure and went to sit under a back table to watch them.

“I’d like ye to try the structured dress this time.” Jamie was reaching for pins on his table. On cue, Marsali appeared with the dress.

Once again, Claire stood before him. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to feel the vitality of his creation. He seemed to understand her need. He moved close and placed his hand on her shoulder. Immediately, he shook his head and backed away.

“Do you not like it? Is there something wrong?” Claire asked.

He didn’t respond until he finished rummaging through a small container on his table, “Do ye not own a hairpin, lass?”

Claire dropped her arm, which had been halfway to swiping a curl from her brow. She opened her mouth to respond, but his expression of mock annoyance brought her up short. _He_ _was_ _joking_ _with_ _her_. He chuckled as he shook his head and one corner of his lips raised. Claire wanted to push at his shoulder, but stopped herself. “I’ll have you know, having curly hair can be rather difficult,” she stated in the poshest accent possible. She raised her arms to re-do her bun, when Jamie’s hand grasped one of her wrists.

“Here, let me help ye.”

His other hand was holding up a hairpin he’d salvaged from the container.

“Alright.” Claire felt slightly dizzy at his touch. _Maybe_ _she_ _did_ _need_ _to_ _eat_ _more_.

He quickly pinned her hair and stepped back. “Better?” His eyes moved to hers.

“Much,” her fingers drifted to the side of her neck. “What else do you keep in that box?” Claire asked as he turned to reach for something on the table, “Swiss army knife?”

“Ah, just random things. It’s like a sporran.”

“You mean that purse type thing worn with a kilt? Wait, do you own a kilt?” Her voice full of curiosity.

Jamie turned to face her. Stunned disbelief, mild outrage, and humor warring on his features. “Good lord, woman. O’ course, I own a kilt!” He ran a hand through his hair, humor winning out as he smiled. “I’m a Scotsman, no? A Highlander?” Claire started to laugh and raised her hands in surrender. “ _And_ ,” Jamie struggled not to join her in laughter, because he was not about to let the matter drop, “I design clothes! Do ye own a stethoscope? Perhaps use gloves?” he teased.

“Yes,” she breathed out between giggles.

“Surrounded by ignorant _sassenachs_ all day, it’s amazing I get anythin’ done.” He said with playful exasperation.

“Sass-a-wot? Oh, that’s Gaelic!”

Jamie breathed heavily and shook his head. That set her off on a new wave of giggles.

“What… does that… mean though?” She managed between gasps. “You speak Gaelic?”

Jamie walked to her and placed his hand on her shoulder to adjust the gown’s sleeve. His gaze shifted to her eyes. “You, yer a _sassenach_ ; an Englishwoman.”

“Oh.” Her laughter subsided as she felt the buzz of anticipation.

“And aye, I do speak Gaelic. My parents made sure me and my sister learned.”

Jamie began to inspect the dress. It was only half constructed and had an almost medieval look to it. The sleeves were designed to stick up and out while leaving her shoulders bare. He’d only attached one of the sleeves and tried to envision the dress as complete. The top resembled a laced breastplate, completely square.

Facing her, he moved his hand to her waist where the dress moulded to her narrow waist. Her eyes closed. He splayed his hand on her abdomen to ensure the fabric was properly attached to the bodice. The beat of her heart echoed through his fingers.

He’d dressed thousands of women. Been backstage in the presence of two dozen half and fully naked women. He never connected. Sure, he noticed. But he gave respect and wanted to be respected. He never allowed a woman to draw him in. Never.

But this woman. Claire. _Sorcha_. She was so easy to be around. He’d couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease with a person. She was funny and quick witted and brilliant and beautiful.

He abruptly removed his hand and dropped to inspect the hem of the dress. It billowed out in an A type shape and lacked the lace overlay of the finished design.

“Mr. Randall mentioned ye met at a conference?” Jamie inquired.

“Um, yes. More like he saved my career.”

Jamie stood and stepped back. He pretended to need a better view of the dress, but what he really wanted was a bit of space between them.

“How so?” Jamie grabbed a small bottle of water and handed it to her.

“Well, you might not be able to tell,” Claire paused to smirk, “but I used to be rather impulsive. It was my last year of medical school and I was considering a career in cancer research. A professor invited me to a multi day pharmaceutical conference. It was in Edinburgh, actually.” She took a swig of water. “Anyhow, a company was marketing a new drug as a potential game changer. Later that night, I read the science behind the propaganda and…”

“And the next day ye let them have it,” Jamie guessed.

“Yes and then some,” she laughed and shook her head at the memory. “I was young and…well…those companies are powerful. I could have been blackballed from residency programs. Unbeknownst to me, Frank had heard the whole thing. His firm had invested enough money in the industry and he graciously offered to smooth things over.”

“In exchange for ye dating him?” Jamie causally toyed with own water bottle.

“No.” Her brow furrowed. “It wasn’t like that. We just got along. He understood my drive to be a doctor.”

Jamie couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Intellectually he knew she was marrying Frank Randall. If she chose him, there must be some worth to the man, but he preferred to think of Randall as nothing more than a smug arsehole.

“Of course,” was all he could manage. Jamie grabbed his camera and snapped a few photos. “How de ye feel about this one?”

She stared at him. “You’re a right bastard. Standing there. Judging me.”

“I wasna..”

“Yes, you damn well bloody were!” She made to go to the changing area.

“Claire!” Hampered by the dress, he caught her easily. “I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry. That was…completely out of order. I dinna know what possessed me…” He hadn’t touched her, but he was blocking her path. He moved to the side.

A number of insults came to her mind, but she held her tongue. It wasn’t as though others hadn’t told her similar things. “It’s alright,” she breathed out.

Fergus had come at the sound of raised voices. He padded to Claire and nuzzled her thigh. She smiled and reached to scratch behind his ear.

Jamie said nothing to Fergus about the dress. He moved closer.

“I’m sorry, Claire, truly. If ye dinna want to continue, I can refund…”

“No.” Her face snapped to his. “I accepted your apology. I want to finish what we started and….we make a good team…don’t you agree?”

“Aye.”

 


	7. Cucumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank pays Claire an unexpected visit; sowing the seeds of his demise.

“ />

 

“I thought she wasn’t Bridezilla? I heard you two had a…what do you call it… a ‘stramash?’” Geneva inquired as she stabbed a pitted olive from her Greek salad.

Jamie had always suspected she had a mole in his studio. He trusted John and Marsali implicitly. It had to be Foster. A very long research trip to Paisley would do the lad good, Jamie thought darkly.

Geneva was finishing her lunch in his office. She’d come to discuss the spring line. “‘Twas nothing.” Jamie responded. “We want the dress to be perfect and we’re both passionate about it.”

Geneva eyed him. “You’re falling behind schedule for spring. You need to settle on a dress design and move forward.”

*******

Claire was rushing to finish her charts. She was scheduled to meet Jamie in less than two hours and she hadn’t even showered. With the last keystroke struck, Claire felt her excitement begin to grow. She and Jamie had been texting and emailing every few days regarding the dress. She had worried their row would dampen her desire to help with the dress, but they seemed to be back in sync. He’d simply misinterpreted her telling of how she and Frank had met.

Claire turned to make for the showers. “Urgh!” She ran directly into Frank’s chest.

“Hey darling, slow down.” Frank smiled. I’ve come to take you out for an early dinner.” He reached for her hips.

Claire instinctively stepped back. “I…what? Did we have plans? I was on my way to meet Jamie..uh…go to Helwater Fashions for a fitting.”

“Cancel. You can do that later. I’ve seen the designs. He’ll get it done with time to spare.” Frank waived a hand, dismissing Jamie.

“Frank, I’m not in the habit of unnecessarily canceling on people last minute.” She felt an odd panic in her chest.

“Darling, for what I’m paying that man, he’ll see you on our schedule. Period. I haven’t seen you in weeks,” he wheedled, “I miss you. I want to tell you about Dubai.”

Claire wanted to object, but how could she? He was right, they’d both been too busy to connect lately and she often had to cancel plans due to her job. She swallowed her unease. “Okay, just let me shower and send HF a quick message.”

“That’s my girl.”

Claire entered the locker room and pulled out her phone. She didn’t expect to be so disappointed about missing an opportunity to help with the dress. She ran a hand across her neck to lift the sweaty curls that had escaped her bun. A finger hovered over Jamie’s contact page. She was being silly. Jamie would understand.

He picked up on the second ring. “Claire? Are ye alright?”

Silence.

“Claire?”

“Umm yes, hullo…I’m so so sorry Jamie, but I can’t make our fitting today. I need to reschedule.” Suddenly her mind went blank. After years of medical school and residency, Claire had perfected the art of eloquently asking for a rain check. This time, however, her mind wouldn’t cooperate. She couldn’t think of more to say.

“I understand,” the disappointment in his voice evident.

She swallowed. She’d wasted his time. She could only imagine the preparation he put into their fittings.

“But yer okay? It’s yer job? One of the bairns needs ye?” His tone was strangely hopeful.

Claire wanted to lie. It would be so easy. Her job was the perfect excuse. But she just couldn’t.

“No, it’s…it’s Frank. He showed up last minute to the hospital. He’s been out of the country you see and well I…I…”

“Of course.” His response was swift; like a hand pulled from a hot stovetop. “Well, don’t let me keep ye. Thanks for lettin’ me know.”

“I’ll call about rescheduling?” Claire quickly asked.

“Of course. Enjoy yerself. Bye Claire.”

She was left staring at the darkened screen of her mobile. She placed it in her locker and slowly undressed. Reaching for her body wash, she knocked the mobile to the floor. She left it as she held the pale green bottle in her hands. Flipping the lid, she inhaled the familiar crisp scent of cucumber. She hated cucumbers. Hated their weak, watered down taste. Hated their pretend fresh scent. Frank loved cucumber. The body wash had been part of a gift set he bought her for her birthday. She only ever used the bodywash; the shampoo/conditioner, body butter and body spray sat unused in the back of her locker. She hadn’t the heart to tell him. But he never asked. He just assumed. He always assumed.

Claire deposited the bodywash in the rubbish bin as she stepped over her mobile. Securing her towel tighter, she walked to Geillis’ locker and opened it. They had an open locker policy – often looking for tampons or deodorant that other had run out of. She grabbed Geillis’ unscented bodywash as well as the bottle of Elizabeth and James Nirvana Black perfume. The scent’s bold masculine undertone and violet highlights had immediately appealed to Claire. She’d given the bottle to Geillis after Frank complained that the fragrance was too strong.

She’d wear it tonite.

She walked back to her locker and grabbed the mobile. She pulled up Jamie’s contact page. Should she call back and explain further? Maybe email suggested dates? Unsettled, she tossed the mobile back into her purse.

Claire set the water of her shower as hot as she could stand. The almost painful sensation kept her mind clear.

“Excellent. I’m famished!” Frank announced upon seeing her freshly showered and ready to go. He reached for her hand, then dropped his arm, and frowned at her. “Are you feeling poorly?”

“No, why?” Claire tried to control her annoyance.

“You’re not coming down with a cold? You keep rubbing your hand over your heart, like it’s hard to breathe?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter, bridge chapter that I felt needed happen for Claire to start questioning certain things. Happy holidays are coming for our pair. Slowly..


	8. Vegan Chocolate Date Balls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire’s true feelings begin to surface.

Claire dashed into the front office of Jamie’s studio. The skies had unleashed a monsoon and she was standing in front of John’s desk, creating a puddle of waterwitch proportions.

“Dr. Beauchamp, we weren’t expecting you for another half hour.” John Grey shot up to help her with the odd assortment of food tins she was carrying. “I’ll get you a towel and tell Jamie you’re here.” He raced down the hall.

Within seconds Jamie appeared and handed her a towel. She was wearing a Burberry trench coat, high waisted jeans, and low cut Barbour Wellington boots. She smiled as she took the towel and began wringing out her hair.

“Left yer umbrella?” Jamie teased. “And yer early? I hope this isna harbinger of the apocalypse?” He winked-blinked at her.

Something unknotted in Claire’s chest. They’d barely spoken since she canceled a week ago. She worried he was cross with her. “No such luck, Fraser. You’re stuck making my dress,” Claire retorted. His eyes went to her hair as she worked to dry it. Wet as it was, it stretched to her mid back. “Look like a drowned rat, no doubt.” She motioned to her hair.

“Not possible.” His eyes stayed on her hair.

The excitement was still there and she was ready to try on the next dress.

Jamie pulled his eyes from her to examine the items she brought. “What’s this?” He began to open a container.

“ _Those_ are vegan chocolate date balls!” Claire proudly announced. “Homemade, in fact.” John took the wet towel from her hand. “They’re for all of you..for the inconvenience I caused…last time. And those there are for Fergus. I didn’t make those,” she confessed, “but I was assured they’re high quality, protein rich dog treats.”

Not trusting his response, Jamie stuffed a ball into his mouth.

“Tea, Dr.?” John asked, helping himself to a ball.

“Yes, thank you, and it’s Claire,” she answered over her shoulder as she scrambled after Jamie, who was already halfway to his studio. “Jamie? Do you not like them? I know you’re health conscious..I thought…”

“Aye, I like them fine. And so will Fergus. Thank ye.” He spoke slow and deliberate as though he were fighting to speak in an accent not his own.

After she cancelled last week, Jamie told himself it was a sign. Whatever bullshit infatuation he’d been nursing, he needed to stamp it out. She was a job and nothing more. It didna matter that she was the first woman, in years, that he wanted to impress. It didna matter that she understood the joys of a job to which you were born. It didna matter that her devotion as a healer of children emboldened and humbled him. It didna matter that he wanted to shelter and protect her. It didna matter that he wanted to see her reckless and free. It didna matter that being next to her sent butterflies through his stomach and blood to his groin. None of that mattered because she was someone else’s bride. And he had G.

Claire didna see him; she loved another and he needed to get over himself. And he had G.

He turned his back to her, pretending to organize pins and measuring tape for the fitting. The preparation he’d already completed a hour before her arrival. He’d kept his head angled down and turned only slightly as he began to speak, “I’d like ye try a column dress. I know yer fiancé didna care for the style, but perhaps seeing ye in one will change his mind.”

Claire struggled to see his face around his broad shoulders. “Alright.”

Claire slipped into the alabaster colored dress. The color intrigued her. It was shimmery and dull at the same time. But it was oddly ill fitting. None of the other dresses had been so. Also, it was the most incomplete. To Claire’s untrained eye, the dress was a simple loose fitting maxi dress with a crew neck. But she knew from his sketches, it was a modified sleeveless; the sleeves would extend at an upward 45 degree angle from her armpits and barely cup over her shoulders. The fabric would spread across the front and top of her shoulders to connect to a jeweled round neckline. At the midpoint of her collar bones, elongated triangular pieces of fabric would be removed to give the gown a halter neck illusion.

Jamie took a few notes and then stood before her. She expected him to grab her shoulders. He often moved his hands to the missing portion of the dress to imagine the finished product. Instead he placed his hands on her hips. Her breath caught. She could feel his thumbs resting on the front of her hipbones. While holding her, he looked down and inspected the gown. He slowly increased the pressure of his fingers. A fire caught under her skin. The coolness of the dress was the only barrier preventing her from searing him. While keeping his head down, he gently pulled her forward and leaned to his left to examine the side of the gown. Claire closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. When he was satisfied, Jamie’s left hand slid from her hip to the small of her back where he bunched the fabric. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her; his expression unreadable. He pinned the back of the dress and stepped back.

She shivered. Her body went from blistering to ice cold.

“This is the one.” He sat on a small stool by his drafting table. “If I were ye or Frank, I’d pick this one.”

“You think so?” Claire grabbed at the neckline.

“Aye, it might hard to see, but it is. I’ll prepare others if ye like, but..?

“No, I trust you.”

“What of yer fiancé?”

“He…does also. Now that he’s seen your work.” Claire knew that wasn’t entirely true, but Jamie was the expert.Why else was Frank paying him, but for his expertise.

He nodded and began to scribble on his ever present sketchbook. She knew this signaled the end of their session, but she didn’t want to leave.

“Why fashion?” She asked.

He put down his pencil and smiled. It was the first time he’d done so since she followed him into the studio. “It’s the story of us.” He answered. “In 500 years, our clothes, especially ceremonial ones like yer gown will be of immense interest. Why?” He rose from his stool to face her. “Because in every culture, in every time, our clothes are important.” His eyes swept across the length of her body. “The Celts and our Kilts, the Japanese Kimono, the Shuka of the Maasai; they tie us to a people, a home, a place.” He’d come to stand at her side. “A statement of place, within a society and to outsiders.” His eyes dropped to her engagement ring. “Aye?”

Not knowing why, Claire clasped her right hand over the large cluster of diamonds. Her thoughts jumbled. She wanted to argue, to yell at him even, yet she agreed with his statements. “Yes,” she breathed out. She slowly backed away and her hand went to her heart.

Jamie faced her now. “It might be vain to say,” he looked to the floor and then back to her eyes, “I wanted to be part of something everlasting.” His blue eyes shimmered like the water of a lake rippling under the force of the wind. They were questing and begging her for an answer when she didn’t understand the question. “Cla—“ His eyes shifted to something behind her shoulder. Claire turned and saw a woman watching them. The woman approached and put her arm around Jamie’s waist. She was petite with raven colored hair and bright blue eyes. She _was_ beautiful. Claire felt her stomach clench.

“Geneva Dunsany,” said the woman, extending her hand. Claire reached out, unable to speak. “You must be Frank Randall’s fiancée. I run marketing for Jamie’s line here at HF,” Geneva squeezed Jamie’s waist, “and I’m Jamie’s partner.”

Jamie slowly brought his arm to rest on Geneva’s shoulders.

An unseen force tightened its grip on Claire’s stomach. Its power twisted and grew like an angry invasive weed—both unwelcome and destructive. It fanned throughout her chest; compressing her lungs, stopping her heart, robbing her voice. Claire had never before been its victim, but its strength undeniable. She was jealous.

 


	9. Tippy Toes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire attempts to reestablish her relationship with Frank, but Jamie is her only comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Way longer than I usually post, but it needed to be done. Thanks to EVERYONE!

I 

”

 

“Oh bloody hell!” Claire stood on her tip toes reaching for a box at the top of her closet. Her middle finger finally found purchase and she grabbed the falling box before it hit her in the face. She upturned the contents onto her bed. It was lingerie. The lingerie she’d bought for her honeymoon. When she purchased it, she was half convinced she’d end up returning it. She and Frank had never been adventurous in the bedroom. Claire was open to exploration, but the one time she suggested role play, he thought it childish and untoward. And she did fake her release more often than not. Even so, she liked sex with him. It just wasn’t worth the hassle of stressing him out when she was generally satisfied with it and she could handle the matter on her own later.

 

She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her hips; her skin still moist from the shower. She stared at the bra’s sheer black mesh and red straps. It was accompanied by a red thong and garters. The red bottomed stilettos were safely hidden underneath her bed.

 

Yesterday, after leaving Helwater, she’d gone to her flat and downed half a bottle of Rioja and fell asleep on her sofa watching a sappy Netflix romcom. It was ‘false intimacy’ she told herself. Completely situational. No different than the attraction a patient felt for a therapist or a student for a professor. It was normal.

 

She grabbed her make up bag and fished around until she pulled out her jet black eyeliner and the Rihanna _Stunna_ red lip paint that Geillis had convinced her to buy.

Within the hour she was riding the lift to Frank’s office. She tightened the belt of her Burberry trench and discreetly wiggled her hips as the coat’s fabric rubbed against her bare arse. She ignored Frank’s executive assistant as she barged into his office.

He was alone with a phone receiver in his hand. She shut the door in the assistant’s face.

 

“Claire, wha..” Frank began. She dropped her trench. Clad only in the lingerie and heels, she advanced. Frank immediately stood. “What in the hell?” She grasped his lapels and kissed him. Hard. Frank grabbed her wrists and wrenched his face from hers. “What in the hell is wrong with you?!” He hissed. He dropped to the floor and grabbed the trench. He brought it around her shoulders and swiped at his mouth as he stepped back. Seeing the red of her lipstick on the back of his hand, Frank turned and reached for a tissue on his desk.

“Claire, anyone can walk in here! I have a call with Frankfurt.”

Claire swallowed the sting of hot tears that threatened to fall. “Aren’t you the boss!” She spat. “You said you missed me. I had the day off… I thought I could surprise you.” She began to button her trench, her hands shaking.

“Claire, you can’t just show up.”

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She turned to go and felt his hand grasp her upper arm.

“Claire, what’s this about?” He forced her around, but she stayed silent. “You’re tired, I can tell. Did you sleep last night?”

His tone was meant to be soothing, but it enraged her. “Frank, let me go! Clearly, this was a bad idea. My feet hurt and I’m cold.”

“I’ll make it up to you after the gala. Did you get the dress I sent?”

She nodded.

“Good. Once we’re married it will be better. We’ll be together all the time.” He massaged her shoulder. “I can look after you better. Have you reconsidered the teaching job? It might be…less demanding?”

 Claire brushed his hand from her shoulder. “Why would I need a less demanding job once we’re married? I don’t see you stepping away—you’re forming a whole new company!”

“That’s different. I’ve perspective. I don’t lose myself to it.”

 

Claire knew she had seconds before the tears would be unstoppable. “I’ll see you at the gala. And I’ll find my own dress.” She turned on her heel and left.

*********

“Och!” Jamie awoke to Fergus’s wet nose pressed against his mouth. “What in the devil has gotten in to ye!” He rolled to his side and saw the time on his alarm clock. 02:12. He clutched his sheet and wiped the dog snot from his mouth. “We ran 10K today—you canna be restless— and I took ye out to piss!”

Fergus let out a quick yip and used his muzzle to swipe Jamie’s mobile from the sidetable near his bed onto the floor. Jamie had activated its _do not disturb_ function before going to bed, just as he did every night. Only his parents, Jenny and Ian were on the bypass list.

“Move,” Jamie pushed Fergus back as he felt for the device in the dark. He found it and saw a text from Claire.

 

02:07 Are you awake?

02:09 A missed call from Claire Beauchamp

 

Jamie knocked over his side lamp in his haste to turn it on. He righted the lamp and blinked as light flooded the room. He stood and grabbed a pair of jeans sitting on a chair. He struggled to put them on while using his mobile to return her call.

 _Ifrinn_! He pushed the speaker function and threw the mobile on the bed as it continued to ring. He ran to his closet, grabbed a hoodie and pulled it over his head. He returned to the sound of Claire’s voice. Her voicemail. Fergus began to anxiously circle the room. Jamie called her again and reached for Fergus.

 

The line connected.

 

“Claire?”

 A sniffle. A sob.

 His mobile creaked in protest as his grip tightened. “Where are ye? What’s happened?”

“I..I’m sorry to call so late..I..it’s nothing..,” her voice was shattered, desolate, “go back to bed. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Where are ye?” Jamie kept his voice calm, desperately trying to push all manner of scenarios from his mind.

“I’m…near the hospital…the patient, I told you about..a little boy…he died…and…”

“I’m comin’.” Jamie was trying to find two matching pairs of shoes. “Yer by the hospital where?”

“Jamie..don’t. I shouldn’t have…”

“Claire, please. Tell me where ye are!” He took a deep breath. “Please, lass.”

********

Jamie found her curled in a booth in an all night pizzeria around the corner from the hospital. The place was near empty and smelled of brunt oil. Her back was to him and her shoulders hunched in her leather jacket. As he approached, he saw a mug of beer and a slice of greasy cheese pizza on the table before her, both untouched. He didn’t want to startle her and kept his voice low, “Claire?”

 

Her shoulders hunched further at his voice. Jamie swallowed and lightly put his hand on her shoulder. “Claire, it’s Jamie.”

 

She looked up at him. Her eyes were red rimmed from crying and she was hugging herself. White hot anger shot through Jamie’s core. _Where_ _the_ _hell_ _was_ _Randall_? _Why was she here alone_?

 

Jamie pushed the beer and pizza away and held out his hand, “come, lass.” She looked at his hand, then to his face, and then back to the table. She seemed not to understand him. Tears began to streak her face and she turned away so Jamie wouldn’t see. He looked around, unsure of what to do. Slowly, he pried her fingers from her upper arm where she was gripping herself. He slid his fingers around hers and squeezed. She sobbed once and squeezed back. He gave her a gentle tug and she slid out of the booth to stand.

 

He laced his fingers through hers and began to lead her to the exit. After a few steps she stopped and dropped his hand.

 

“Jamie, I’m sorry. I should never have called.”

 

Before he could respond, she continued, her speech pressured, “I convinced the hospital. I convinced the family , but it was too late. He was too weak to withstand the treatment. They waited too long.” Jamie tried to walk toward her, but she took a step back. Her eyes were wild and unfocused as she looked around the pizzeria. “It’s my fault. I should have tried harder.” She angrily swiped at her falling tears. He moved once again to get close and she again stepped back. She began to speak even faster. “I knew he was ill. Very ill. I knew this could..would…probably happen… I shouldn’t have gotten attached. I always do too much…”

 

Jamie felt pain in a place in his soul that he didn’t know existed. He would have given everything he had to ease her suffering.

 

“I’m sorry for bothering you..I..”

 

Before she could back away, Jamie took two steps and grasped her upper arms. “It’s okay, lass. I know you did everythin’ that anyone could have done.” She began to shake her head and tried to pull away. Jamie held tight. “Yer not bothering me. Ye did right to call. Ye shouldna be alone.” He felt her body relax as she looked at him. Absorbing his words, chin trembling, her face slowly broke apart as she collapsed into his chest. Jamie brought his arms around her as she fisted her hand in his hoodie and cried. He rocked her, praying he could give her a bit of comfort.

 

They’d attracted the attention of the waiter. Jamie held up one arm to indicate that everything was alright, but at the loss of his shelter, Claire began to whimper and burrowed closer to his chest. Jamie pointed to the pizza and beer to ask its price and quickly brought his arm back around her. After a bit she settled and pulled back. Jamie still held her by the upper arms, but brought his face down to look into her eyes. They were like flecks of gold lying in a stream. She looked mildly embarrassed and blinked to clear the last of her tears. She steeled herself and nodded slightly.

 

“I’ve an extra bedroom. Ye can stay wi’ me,” he spoke softly. “Or,” he had to ask, “I can take ye to someone..Frank maybe? But I willna let ye be alone.”

“Thank you,” she wiped her nose with a napkin she pulled from her jacket pocket, “I’ll… go with you if it’s not too much trouble.”

  
******

  
Fergus yipped and jumped when Jamie pushed open the door of their flat to reveal Claire. Before Jamie could remove her jacket, she bent down and ran her hands along the dog’s sides. Fergus’s tail wagging ferociously; he bopped her nose with his muzzle and Claire squeaked in delight.

 She smiled up at Jamie. _Thank_ _god_. After today, he’d owe Fergus a very long run and two of Claire’s treats. She stood and Jamie took her jacket.

 

The flat was definitely Jamie’s. Claire could tell the moment she walked past the entry way. His tastes were present throughout and it had a very masculine feel. Considering he spent all day designing womenswear, it made sense he’d want something for himself. Claire released the breath she’d been holding. It also meant he lived alone.

 

“It’s just me and Fergus,” Jamie said, reading her thoughts.

She nodded, smiled, and nervously crossed her arms across her body. Her vulnerability awakened something primal in Jamie. He knew what it was to want to protect a woman, but this was different. He would do anything, endure anything if it would stop her suffering.

“Do ye want to talk about it?” He asked. She’d been silent on the drive to his flat.

“No. But will you stay up with me? Just a little while longer,” her voice was small and apologetic.

“Aye.” His fist tightened at how reluctant she seemed to ask for any sort of comfort. “How about some tea? Camomile?” He motioned for her to sit at his black slate kitchen counter.

 She took a seat as he turned to prepared the water. “What I’d really like is a donut,” she sighed. Jamie turned to face her. “But I’m sure you don’t pollute your body,” Claire gestured to his remarkable physique.

He smirked. “No, I dinna have a donut, but I do have this.”

 

Claire stood on the chair’s bottom rung to peer over the counter into drawer he had opened. His cheat drawer. Amongst the empty calories and edible cancer causing chemicals, he pulled out a solid block of dark chocolate. He laughed as her eyes went big.

He’d grabbed a paring knife and began to break off sections. He turned to grab her tea and when he looked back she was reaching over the counter, grabbing sections of chocolate.

 “Oi! Were ye raised in a barn?” He playfully smacked her hand.

“Not far from it,” she laughed, unrepentant and with a mouthful of chocolate.

She cupped the tea he’d placed before her and watched as he moved the chocolate onto a plate.

“See, civilized,” he pointed. She stuck out her tongue and threw more chocolate into her mouth. He shook his head and smiled. “Do ye want somethin’ stronger? I’ve whisky?”

She crinkled her nose as she took a sip of tea, “no, the tea’s good. I don’t like whisky.” She looked up and caught the tail end of the expression he was trying to hide. He smiled pleasantly.

She shrugged, “I _am_ an uncivilized, ignorant sass-a-crack.” 

He chocked out a laugh. “Aye! Ye are. And the list keeps growin’! _SASSENACH_.”

She shrugged again, smiling into her cup.

Jamie grabbed some of her chocolate. _Christ_ , _it was good to see her smile_.

 

“Who are they?” She pointed to a photo of his nieces and nephew that was pinned to his refrigerator by a Scottish saltire magnet. He explained and handed her the photo.

Her delicate fingers traced the photo. “The younger girl looks like you.”

“Aye, that’s wee Kitty. She’s the worst one.”

Fergus yipped in agreement. They both laughed.

 

Suddenly, Jamie pictured her swollen with Frank Randall’s child. He turned to force the thought from his mind. When he felt he could face her, he looked back to see her still staring intently at the picture.

“There’s nothin’ wrong wi’ ye Claire. If, God forbid, those bairns got sick..or one of my own, I’d want a doctor who gave a damn.”

She tried to smile as her eyes went glassy and there was a slight tremble to her chin. “Thank you, Jamie.”

 

Claire put down the photo and began to hug herself. His heart squeezed. He desperately wanted to take her into his arms, instead he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Geneva is lucky to have you.” She spoke so softly he barely heard her. “Is it nice? Her understanding what you do?”

Jamie felt as though he’d swallowed glass. He tried to clear the pain in his throat, but couldn’t. He reached for a bottle of water and drank. Finding his voice, “um...weel.. she knows it’s what I’m meant to do.”

 

They fell quiet.

 

Finally, Claire broke the silence. “Tell me a story, Jamie. Anything at all. I’d just like to hear your voice.”

“Alright.” He directed her to his living room sofa.

She toed off her shoes and curled under the tartan blanket he kept there. She scratched behind Fergus’s ear as he lay on the floor beside the sofa.

Jamie sat on a chair to her right. “I can tell ye about the time I met Nessie.”

Her brows knitted, “who?”

“As an uncivilized, ignorant sassenach, you might know her as the Loch Ness Monster.”

Claire’s shoulders shook with laughter, “oh I can’t wait to hear.”

 

And so he told her. Told her of the stories of his childhood; about kelpies and selkies. He slipped into Gaelic as her eyes closed and told her of _ban_ - _druidh_ and _seonaidh_.

When he knew her to be asleep, he went to prepare his guest bedroom. He came back to find Fergus standing guard over her. “Good boy.”

 

He gently shook Claire awake. “Come, lass. I’ve a bed for ye.” She rubbed at her eyes like wee Jamie and sleepily smiled. Her hair stuck out in every direction; she never looked more beautiful.

Fergus brushed past Claire’s leg as she entered Jamie’s guest bedroom. He sat by the bed. A clear indication he’d be spending the night with her.

Jamie sighed. “If he bothers ye, just put him out, aye? There’s a bathroom through there with toiletries and fresh towels. I’ve left an old rugby shirt for ye to sleep in. And I’m just down the hall if ye need anythin,’ anythin’ at all.”

Claire looked around. “Thanks and I’m glad to have Fergus.”

Jamie nodded and grabbed the handle to close the door. “Goodnight, Claire.”

She walked to him, stood on her tippy toes and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Jamie and thank you.”

The pain in his throat returned, far worse than before. “Welcome,” was all he could manage. He tried to give what he hoped was a reassuring smile and gently closed the door.

 

He made no move to walk to his bedroom. He placed his right hand flat on the door. It was at the level of her heart. He lifted his hand and watched it hover over the doorknob. He screwed his eyes shut, dropped his hand, and walked to his bedroom; leaving the care of his heart to Fergus.

On the other side of door, Claire had both her hands pressed flat at the height of his shoulders. She brought her forehead to the door and didn’t try to stop her tears.

******

Jamie awoke to the sun shining brightly in his bedroom.

09:54!

He was late for work and why hadn’t Fergus pestered him awake?

He padded down the hallway and looked into his guest bedroom. Empty. She’d made the bed and neatly folded the towels. Continuing to the kitchen, he found Fergus contently chewing on a bully stick. His attention was drawn to a small box on the counter with a note attached.

 

 _Jamie_ _&_ _Fergus_ ,

_Thx so much for everything. You’ve no idea how much it meant to me. I’ll never forget the kindness you’ve shown me. I took Fergus out and cleaned up a bit._

 

Jamie glanced up from her note and saw she’d washed the dishes they’d used last night. Near his electric tea kettle sat a newly purchased small tin of fresh loose leaf camomile tea and a small block of artisanal chocolate. He returned to her note.

 

_I had to leave early to handle things at work & wasn’t sure if I should wake you. Fergus confirmed that I should not, because, according to him, you’re a pretty big deal and they’ll wait for you :) See you next week._

_An_ _uncivilized_ , _ignorant_ _sassalatch_.

 

After a long while, Jamie placed her note on the counter and opened the small box upon which it had been attached. It was a donut.

He laughed even as his throat went tight with an unexpected rush of emotion.

Her grabbed her note and stuck it in a nearby sketchbook. He’d end up giving it back to her, along with a ring, when he asked to be her husband.

Jamie picked up his mobile to text John when to expect him. Instead, he texted Geneva.

 **G**  
 **I’d** **like** **to** **speak** **to** **you** **in** **person**.

 


	10. The Tate Modern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire, Geneva, Frank and Jamie go to a Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thanks for all the kudos and comments!! I read and appreciate every single one!

“

 

 

Jamie rolled his broad shoulders as he stepped from his steaming shower. He wiped the mirror with his fist and felt a slight twinge near his left shoulder blade. He needed to lay off the row machine. Ever since Claire had dropped into his life, he’d been spending much of his free time in the gym or logging miles on the road with Fergus. He’d already replaced his running shoes a month early and even Fergus’s unending supply of energy seemed to be waning.

Jamie reached for his razor as he watched the sink fill with water. Geneva had responded to his text by phoning him an hour later.

 

_“Well, hello Jamie. So you want to talk? That’s brilliant!” Her voice full of sarcasm. “Point of order, we could have spoken this morning! At the meeting with the executive VPs – the one I scheduled two months ago – the ONE you were supposed to be at. Where were you? I called the studio and John said you hadn’t checked in?”_

_“I overslept.”_

_Her voice incredulous, turned to ice, “You wake up every morning at five to run with your dog and you has a lie in?”_

_“I overslept,” Jamie kept his voice even. “Geneva, I need to speak with you. Perhaps a bite to eat?_ ”

_At hearing her full name, Geneva’s voice turned from ice to stone, “later. I’ve last minute preparations for tomorrow’s gala._

_Jamie groaned_

_“You forgot, didn’t you?_ ” _She asked._

_“Geneva..?”_

_“Jamie,” she cut him off, “this is important to HF and it should be important to you. I’m trying to position to you at the forefront of a progressive global brand,” her voice softened, “and it’s important to me. I know you think me but a hindrance to your work, but you couldn’t design clothes if I didn’t get the right eyes to see them.” Her voice wavered, “I’ve worked six months on this.” Silence. “But, if you need to tell me something this instant, just tell me, otherwise I’ll see you at the Gala._

 

  
Jamie had felt a pang of guilt at her words. She had worked hard and she was helping him, but all he could think about was Claire. He’d ended the call by agreeing to see her at the Gala. Frankly, he had no idea what he was about. He was going to break up with his girlfriend to be available for a woman who was about to wed another? Jamie foamed the soap on his face and took one long swipe with the razor. And where was Randall when Claire was crying with cold pizza and crap American beer as her only companion. Jamie lifted the razor from his neck. The thought of Randall comforting Claire would cause him to slice his throat. He swished the razor in the sink. Regardless, being with Geneva was untenable and she deserved better than a man wishing she were someone she wasn’t.

Jamie finished his shave, toweled off his face and body and began to walk down the hall to his guest bedroom. He passed Fergus on the way and playfully threw his wet towel on the dog’s head. Fergus shimmied out the towel, gave him a quick yip, and went back to his afternoon nap. Jamie casually scratched his left arse cheek and continued, naked, to the guest bedroom. He found his formal kilt attire hanging behind the closet door. Despite it being there for the past week, Geneva was right, he had forgotten about the Gala. It was the black tie fundraising event scheduled this evening at the Tate Modern; its aim was to promote diversity in the arts and HF was one of the co sponsors. Jamie brushed his hand over the plush woolen cloth of Fraser colors. He sighed as he looked down and cupped his balls. “Well there’s no help for it.” It would be cold tonight and he was going full Scotsman.

*********

And we’ll be slow dancing through the rock in the road//  
And I promise that I’m catching you, if ever you fall

Scotswoman Emeli Sandé’s voice oozed from the high tech sound equipment peppered throughout the Tate Modern’s abstract installations.

 

You’re every single little piece of me// You’re every tear and every drop I bleed

 

Jamie plucked a stray ginger strand from his Prince Charlie jacket as he perused the piss poor selection of Scottish whisky at one of the Gala’s open bar stations. Jamie’s nose crinkled when he reached the section of American bourbon. Sassenachs.

He definitely need assistance to make it through the evening. He selected a mediocre single malt and took a sip. He turned to see Geneva in a far corner amongst a small cluster of people. She was pretending to laugh at a joke. He hated her laugh. It always came with an edge of mocking condescension.

 

And if we run into trouble, no, I won’t disappear//While you’ve been spinning in circles I’ve been standing right here

 

He took another sip and scanned the eveningwear on display. Some hits, but quite a few misses. Jamie moved to take another sip. His mouth fell open and his hand jerked up as his fingers tightened around the glass that had almost slipped from his grip.

Claire had entered the hall at the opposite end. She was wearing a black floor length gown. Its plunging black leather bodice revealed the full inner curve of her breasts. Her hair was slicked back and her lips the color of blood. Jamie stood transfixed, waiting for her to turn to the side. He watched as her tongue briefly darted out to moisten her lips as she scanned the crowd. His eyes dropped to her legs. Waiting. Waiting for it. He didn’t want to so much as blink and miss it. He’d designed the dress after all. He knew exactly how the gown would respond to her movements. He knew a visible silver zipper ran down her spine from her nape to her arse. Knew she must have struggled to zip the dress on her own. Knew she hadn’t asked for Randall’s help and wore it anyway. He smiled at the thought.

Claire started to move. There it was. Jamie’s breath caught as the full length of her leg was revealed through the gown’s slit which sat high on her thigh. Her leg went from from visible to hidden and back again as the fabric accommodated her stride. The definition of her calf was accentuated by a pair of perfectly chosen silver strappy heels. Jamie felt a swell of pride at how good she looked. His eyes continued to track her as she made her way to a bar station. Several men were openly admiring her to which she seemed oblivious.

 

  
Claire had just received her extra dry, extra dirty martini when she felt Frank’s hand on her arm. “What are you wearing?” He spat. “Where’s the dress I sent?”

Claire looked him in the eye as she slowly took her first sip. She examined the red imprint of her lips on the glass. She closed her eyes and licked the brine from her lower lip. She could feel Frank seething next to her. “Let go of my arm,” she spoke slowly as her eyes opened. Frank glanced around nervously as though he were apologizing for a toddler’s tantrum in a grocery. “Let. Go. Of. My. Arm.” She repeated, voice restrained, like a viper coiling to strike. Frank dropped his hand. “I told you I would find my own dress. I chose this one. Some men might think to greet their betrothed with a compliment.” She took another sip.

Frank stared at her. “Claire, of course you’re a vision, beautiful always, but,” his face contorted as though he were speaking to a stranger, “I was planning on pitching to investors with you by my side…and..”

Claire’s response died in her throat when she saw Jamie approach.

He was in full regalia. She had time to catch his knees, the kilt, the brooch, and his clean shaven face before she averted her eyes to suppress the grin threatening to break free.

“Fraser, surprise seeing you here.” Frank extended his hand. He was wearing an unimaginative, ill fitting tuxedo with a crooked bow tie. Jamie shook his hand; fighting to control his own smile at seeing Claire feign interest in a martini olive while trying to look at his sporran.

“Quite the grip you’ve got there, Fraser. I don’t remember that last we met.” Frank smiled his smug smile.

The image of Claire hugging herself flooded Jamie’s mind; he thought of strangling Randall with his bow tie and then breaking his face with his fist.

Frank stepped back to examine Jamie’s formal kilt.

“Is there a parade?” Randall laughed at his own joke. He and Geneva had the same laugh.

Jamie leaned forward, “the theme of this event is _diversity_. I’m sure ye were taught the meaning of that word at Cambridge.”

Frank’s face darkened as Claire struggled not to laugh.

Jamie eyes softened as he looked to Claire, “it is a surprise to see ye here,” turning to Randall he continued, “‘’tis a blessing that ye somehow found the time to help others.” Jamie took a long sip of whisky . “Philanthropy, I mean.” 

Frank swirled what suspiciously looked to be an apple martini in his hand. “My company is a co sponsor; it’s a worthwhile cause and good PR,” he smiled.

Jamie watched as Randall’s attention began to drift to the crowd. He realized Randall was unaware that Claire had been at his flat.

 

And all these stars, I reached out, collected for you//  
All these nights I prayed and I dreamt about you

  
Jamie brought his eyes to Claire’s. She smiled shyly and looked back at her olive. Jamie eyes swept over her body and when she looked back to him, he noticed a slight flush had started to spread across her chest and neck. She let out a small exhale and trapped her lower lip in her teeth as the flush moved to her cheeks.

Jamie began to speak when he noticed Claire flinch and draw closer to Randall. He instinctively began to move toward her when he felt Geneva’s hand around his own.

“Isn’t it glorious,” Geneva began, “I..” She looked at Claire’s dress then to Jamie.

Geneva’s abrupt silence returned Randall’s attention to the conversation. “Is this your dress, Fraser?”

“Aye.” Jamie replied.

“I hired you to design a wedding dress, not be my fiancée’s stylist! She..”

The lights dimmed, indicating the speeches were to begin.

Claire quickly left with Randall and Jamie followed Geneva to a nearby table.

After an interminable amount of speeches and a silent auction, the crowd was free to mingle. Geneva introduced Jamie to the chairwoman of the British Fashion Council, but he couldn’t manage the small talk. He ignored Geneva’s look of warning and excused himself in search of another dram.

He spotted Claire and Randall near the back. He watched as Randall left her alone to join a pair of equally unimaginatively dressed men.

 

I once kneeled in shaken thrill//I chase a memory of it still, of every chill

 

The music had returned. No more than ten seconds passed before a man asked Claire to dance. Jamie watched as Claire looked around, but not for Randall. She returned her attention to the man and offered her hand in acceptance.

Jamie was upon them before he realized he’d started to walk. He wasn’t accustomed to using his size to intimidate others, but this time he did. The man turned to see the wall that was Jamie’s body. Claire politely shrugged and the man demurred.

  
Staring in the blackness at some distant star//  
The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are

 

With the man gone, Jamie held out his hand. Claire looked conflicted, but took his hand and stepped into his embrace.

 

To the wild and to the both of us//I confess the longing I was dreaming of

 

Jamie’s thumb rubbed the zipper that sat on her lower back. Her hand tightened around his.

“Nice dress.” He said.

“You think so? I heard the designer is up and coming.”

He chuckled, “ye’ll have to tell me their name.”

She smiled. “I like your….socks?”

“Hose, lass.” His face serious.

Claire laughed in his arms. “You’re adding this to the list aren’t you?”

“Aye, most definitely.”

 

But there’s no better love//Beckons above me and there’s no better love//  
That ever has loved me, there’s no better love

 

He wanted to tell her she looked like a fucking goddess, but settled on, “ye look beautiful.”

 

So darling, feel better love

 

She smiled as she shook her head, “well it is your dress.”

“Nae, everyone knows it’s the woman that makes the dress. Ye design the dress to highlight what’s already there, not the other way ‘round.”

 

Know that my love would burn with me//  
We’ll live eternally//‘Cause there’s no better love

 

She looked down and didn’t reply.

“Claire, are ye happy?”

“I, yes, I mean mostly.” Her voice low.

Jamie looked around. They’d stopped dancing and she stepped back.

“I know it’s no my place,” Jamie wanted to be careful, he knew her temper, “but where was Frank?”  
Her hawk-like eyes narrowed and her jaw set. Jamie was afraid he’d said more than he should. When she didn’t answer, he closed his eyes and continued, “ye deserve a man who would give ye all his time, all his attention; to lay the world at your feet.” When he heard nothing, he opened his eyes to find Claire staring at him.

“Is that what you do for Geneva?”

His brow knitted, “No. Yes. No!” His right hand adjusted the broach on his left shoulder, while the fingers of his left hand tapped his kilt. “Claire, Geneva and I aren’t..”

“Aren’t what?” Geneva placed her arm around Jamie’s elbow.

Claire smiled at the couple and excused herself. She ordered a second dirty martini and waited near the coat room. Frank appeared soon thereafter. “You embarrassed me tonight,” Frank said over his shoulder as he handed a ticket to the coat attendant.

“Embarrassed?” Claire felt her temper rise.

Frank whipped around, “yes embarrassed! I needed you to help with the investors—“

“You mean sit quietly by your side in clothes you deem appropriate?!”

“Yes. That’s preferable to you looking like a whore! Seriously Claire! All because I wouldn’t fuck you on my desk. You’re behaving like a child.”

Claire threw her martini in his face, the olive landing square on his forehead. Frank brushed at the gin in his eyes. “Don’t patronize me!” She hissed as she slapped him across the face.

She backed up. “I’m done with this. This isn’t what I want. You never see me! You don’t care how I feel! You don’t care what I want!” She sat the martini glass down. “If I ever owed you anything, I’ve paid my debt in full.” She slipped off her ring and placed it in the glass.

She didn’t wait for his response. She turned and walked away; unconsciously walking to the last place she’d seen Jamie.

*******

“Aren’t what?” Geneva placed her arm around Jamie’s elbow.

“Oh, if you’ll excuse me. I see someone I know.” Claire smiled weakly and walked away.

“Stop it.” Jamie tried to pull his arm from Geneva’s grasp.

“Why, love?” Geneva smiled and reached for his hand.

Jamie snatched his hand back. ‘Ye’ve never called me ‘love,’ I know what yer doing.”

“Do you?” She purred. “That makes two of us. You were calling to break up with me weren’t you? Do you think me stupid? You overslept?! You were with that curly haired bitch.”

Jamie realized she’d had too much to drink and was about to make a scene. He grabbed her arm and guided her to an alcove near the toilets. “Yer drunk.” He tried to get her to sit on a plush chair in the alcove.

She brushed his arm away. “No, Jamie, I’m not, and I see you aren’t denying it.” She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. “Jamie, I don’t care. I know what we have and what we don’t. I know you love your clothes more than you could ever love me.”

She seemed to regain her balance and Jamie stepped back.

Geneva pulled at the top of her sleeveless gown, “but that was alright because I chose you and you chose me.” She sighed. “But then you didn’t. I saw the way you looked at her that day at HF. I knew you loved her more than your clothes. I won’t be second choice! I knew she’d be here with that wanker Randall. I wanted to be sure.”

“G, I’m sorry,” Jamie said. “I didna realize at the time that…I wasna cheating on ye.”

She laughed at that. “I know. You were probably helping her with a flat tire. Wait, no. Her flat burned down and she needed a place to stay.”

Jamie smirked, “somethin’ like that.”

She laughed again. “See, I do know you Fraser!” She unbalanced and Jamie grabbed her about the waist and placed her in the seat.

“Ugh,” she reached to take off her shoes.

Jamie kneeled down to help her. “I’m sorry G.”

“Don’t be, I’m getting the better end of the deal. I can find someone who wants what I want. You’re in love with a woman you’ll never have.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

Jamie smiled, “same ‘ole Geneva, I see.” He stood, offering her his arm, “come, I’ll see ye home.”

She hooked her arm through his and leaned on his shoulder as they started to walk. Geneva stopped and looked behind them. Jamie followed her gaze but saw nothing. Geneva shook her head, “I thought I saw someone, but it was no one.” Jamie nodded and led her out.

*********

Claire’s hand hurt from striking Frank. She ran inside and saw Jamie in an alcove with Geneva. He was kneeling before her, his hand on her calf, removing her shoes. Claire felt like she’d been hit with a steel pipe in the throat; it was instantly painful to breath. She watched him smile as Geneva kissed his cheek. Her vision blurred with tears. She swiped at her eyes and saw Jamie leading Geneva by the arm to the exit. Claire watched as Geneva turned and smiled at her. Claire ran from their view. She felt a cold numbness settle over her heart. She dried her eyes and exited the back, leaving behind her coat, Frank, Geneva and Jamie.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics referenced in this chapter are Emeli Sandé’s Every Single Little Piece and Hozier’s Better Love. I channel Hozier for HoF’s Jamie. Sandé I’ve seen live and is amazeballs!


	11. Three Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie learns of Claire’s broken engagement.

”

 

"Umph.” Geneva leaned heavily against Jamie’s side as he pushed open the door to her flat. After she announced her plans to go to a pub and get laid, Jamie decided to see her home. He knew she wasn’t serious; that she was drunk - said it to wound him and to protect her pride, but he wouldn’t see her hurt in case she tried it. He hailed a taxi and slipped in beside her as he directed the driver to her flat. She quickly fell asleep against his shoulder.

 

Once in her flat, Jamie placed her in a chair at her kitchen table. As he was putting her shoes near her feet, she reached for his shoulders and tried to kiss him. He held her back by the upper arms. “No, Geneva. I canna. It isna fair to ye.”

 

“But I don’t care. We can still be together,” she tried to touch him, but Jamie held her in place.

“I canna be with ye anymore, not when I love another.” He watched her swallow and look away. He crouched further down and forced her to look at him. “It isna fair to me either, aye?”

 

He released her and stood.

 

“Perhaps a break? She doesn’t want you anymore. Once she’s married, you’ll never see her again….maybe you’ll forget?”

“No.”

She started as though he’d struck her.

“I’m sorry, Geneva.”

He turned and left.

******

  
“Ugh.” Jamie pushed back from a desktop work station in his studio. The textures and patterns of his spring line refused to take shape. He walked to his drafting table, adjusting the waistband of his fitted jogging bottoms along the way. In the past, pencil and paper had always helped him push past a creative block, but not today. Today, he was in a ‘mood,’ as Marsali had said after he apologized for snapping at her this morning. Jamie tapped his thigh and looked to his office desk where his mobile sat.

 

After leaving Geneva’s flat, he’d texted Claire to ensure she safely made it home. ‘Yes,’ was her one word reply. Jamie brushed off her terseness as due to her being tired. The next day he emailed her the final design drafts for her dress. Her wedding was two weeks away and there was but one fitting left. She usually replied to his emails within the hour; this time a full day passed before she responded, ‘thank you.’ Jamie tried to tamp down his unease. He knew this was coming, knew she’d marry Randall and leave his life as quickly as she’d entered it.

 

From beneath a stack of sketchbooks and fabric swatches, he pulled out Claire’s photo. It was the first photo he took of her. He smiled to himself. From the very first moment he saw that curly wig and her whisky eyes, he was done for. She’d wrecked him. Ruined him to his very core. He didn’t want think she was mad at him for what he’d said about Randall, for maybe they could still be friends. He scoffed. How could they be friends? How could he be near her and not want her? It might be doable if Randall were remotely worthy of her, if he knew her man would do right by her, but Randall would not. Everything that made Claire who she was Randall wanted to snuff out. He would slowly kill her spirit and that, above everything else, angered Jamie.

 

“Jamie!” John shouted from the entry way, “Claire called to reschedule tomorrow’s fitting. You’re at HQ for the next two days after, so I told her Friday? Good?”

“What?” Jamie replied perplexed.

“I said, Claire called –“

“Aye, aye. I heard ye. Good. I understand.”

 

But of course Jamie didn’t understand. Claire always scheduled her fittings through him. He went to his office and grabbed his mobile to call her. It went to voicemail.

 

******

  
Claire walked into Helwater Fashions and slowly removed her scarf. She looked back at the door she just entered. How many times had Jamie entered that same door? She swore to herself she’d be strong. Meeting Jamie had irrevocably changed her life. She wouldn’t be sad. She would be happy - for herself and for him. She heard voices.

 

“Hullo?”

John came to the front and stopped at seeing her. “Dr. Beauch..Claire? I thought we rescheduled for Friday. Jamie’s not here. He’s at a meeting with corporate.” John began moving to his desktop to check the schedule. Marsali entered and looked over John’s shoulder.

“Oh, I spoke with Jamie yesterday,” Claire lied, “I told him I’d be nearby and asked if I could see the dress.”

Marsali and John exchanged looks.

“I can try to call him Claire. He’ll come if he knows you’re here, but he can be hard to reach at corporate,” said Marsali.

“No!” Claire softened her voice. “I mean, he’s very busy. I don’t want to disturb him. It’s almost finished, yes? I just wanted to try it.”

John’s eyebrows knitted while he finished checking the shared calendar, confirming Jamie made no entry about Claire’s arrival. “Well, Jamie’s pretty good about telling me his schedule, but he has been out of sorts the last few days. Marsali, pull the dress for Claire.”

 

Claire nodded her thanks. She followed Marsali down the long hallway to Jamie’s studio, looking into each room as she passed. She saw the conference room where she’d first met Jamie; the room where he found her on her mobile before their first fitting; the side hall where he first took her photo. She stopped at his personal office. She looked through the window and saw a photo on a back shelf of a puppy Fergus with his nephew.

“Are ye alright?” Marsali put her hand on Claire’s arm where it covered her heart. “Maybe we should try Jamie?”

“No.” Claire shook her head and tried to smile. “Thank you, it’s just been a long day, just the dress if you please.”

 

Marsali hesitated, “Okay, wait in the studio.” As Marsali disappeared to retrieve the dress, Claire walked to Jamie’s drafting table. A smile split her face as she picked up his glasses. She realized for the first time that he had multiple pairs of glasses. Of course he did. She shook her head as she sat them down. There was a wool scarf on the back of his chair. She touched the scratchy material and ran her fingers across the Harris Tweed label. She looked around for Marsali. Not seeing her, she snatched the scarf and brought it to her nose. She was flooded with his scent. “No tears. He’s happy,” she whispered out loud. Claire sat down the scarf and turned to the small table with his ‘sporran box.’ She tilted it and peered at its contents; caps for missing pens, a nail file, half broken colored pencils, paper clips, staples, and pencil erasers. She looked to the side of the box and saw a new packet of unopened hair pins. “Oh god.”

“What’s that?” Marsali came floating in with Claire’s wedding gown.

Claire swallowed her tears. “It’s nothing, will you help me into it?”

Claire stood before the mirror, John and Marsali on either side. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” said Marsali, “it really suits ye. Jamie knows what he’s doing, aye?”

“Yes,” Claire breathed out. This time she let two tears escape. Turning to John, “will you take my picture? I want to remember it.”

John and Marsali exchanged another look.

 

John took several photos of Claire. He printed a few on HF’s high resolution printer and handed them to her. “We’ll see you on Friday for the last minute detailing?”

Claire didn’t answer his question, but pulled out her credit card. “I know you charged Frank Randall for the deposit, but will you refund his money and charge the entire balance to this.”

John said nothing, but grabbed her card and turned to complete the transaction.

“Will Jamie get in trouble? If the dress isn’t seen?”

John turned back to face her. Marsali was at her elbow, “do ye want a different dress?”

“No, no. I was just curious.”

“Well, no,” John answered. “It isn’t public that Jamie or HF is designing your gown. No one’s expecting it. If it were well received it would help his career, but if you don’t wear it, the public would be none the wiser. Also, Geneva’s kept most of the details under wraps from HF’s other designers and corporate. He’d be fine.”

Claire felt queasy remembering Geneva’s arm entwined with Jamie’s as they went home together.

“I see.” Claire pulled an envelope from her purse. “Will you give that to Jamie when he returns to the studio on Friday. It’s not important, it will keep till he returns.”

She thanked them and was gone.

******

“Christ! I almost slit my own wrists.” Jamie announced to John as he entered the studio. “Ye’ve no idea how asinine those meetings are – why the hell do the designers need to be there?”

John laughed, “boss problems, eh?”

Jamie flipped him off on the way to his office. He noticed a small Christmas tree on his desk. _Marsali_. He moved it to a back shelf and glanced at his overflowing inbox. He ignored it and sat. He felt exhausted - he’d barely slept the last three days. It was as if his subconscious decided it could slow down the passage of time by not sleeping. Delay the arrival of today; the day of Claire’s last fitting. Jamie hadn’t left a message when he called her. He didn’t know what to say. Claire didn’t return the missed call either. He scrubbed a hand across his face and reached for his inbox. There he noticed a small stack of photos that were paper clipped together. It was Claire. Claire, in her nearly finished gown, in a photo he had not taken. _What_ _the_ _devil_? He stood. He flipped the first photo over and then back again. He fanned through the rest of the photos and ran to the door.

 

“John! Marsali!”

After they both explained, Jamie stood silent.

“I knew we should have called him,” Marsali said to John. She looked to Jamie, “what’d her letter say?”

Jamie blankly stared.

“I attached an envelope to the –“

Before John could finish his sentence, Jamie ran back to his office and reached into his inbox. Her letter had become separated from the photos. He tore open the letter.

 

 _Jamie_ ,

 _Thank you._ _The dress is exquisite._ _Absolutely_ _stunning_. _But_ _knowing_ _your_ _talent_ , _it_ _could_ _not_   _have been otherwise. I deeply apologize for wasting your time, but I couldn’t go through with it. I left Frank._

 

Jamie’s hands started to shake. He stopped reading and touched the discarded envelope. If the envelope were real, that meant the letter was real. He focused back to her letter.

 

_I hope you’ll forgive the cowardly way I’ve chosen to tell you about the dress, but I’ve always hated goodbyes. The dress is fully paid for & you have my unreserved permission to sell it to someone else._

_Jamie, I must have re written this letter a dozen times & I’m still unable to adequately express what meeting you has meant to me. I’m not embarrassed to admit that you saved me. You saved me, James Fraser. You helped me to save myself. And I will be forever grateful. _

_I wish you all the success & happiness that you so richly deserve._

_Claire_

 

“Damn you!” Jamie yelled at her letter. “Damn you, woman!” Shock turning to desperation, “why did ye no come to the studio!?” His fists curled. A sense of shame washed over him – he knew something was wrong since the gala, yet he’d let her be just as Randall would have done.

Now, his only thought was finding her. It didn’t matter how or where, whether she wanted him or no, he had to see her.

His fingers were unusually slow and clumsy as he tried to dial her number.

“Here.” Marsali took his mobile. She’d come to his office door to check on him.

Jamie thanked her as she left and closed the door. The line immediately went to voicemail.

_Ifrinn!_

“Claire, where –“

Jamie heard raised voices through his office door.

“Fraser! You bastard!” Said the unmistakable voice of Frank Randall.

Jamie walked to the lobby. Randall’s eyes focused on him, as he spat, “Where the fuck is my wife?!”

 


	12. Leòdhas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has one more obstacle to overcome before finding Claire.

”

 

My wife! Where is she, you Scottish bastard?!” Randall roared.

Jamie put a hand on John’s shoulder as he pushed past him to stand before Randall. “Were you recently married? I dinna ken you had a wife.”

Randall stood straighter. “Fraser, if you think you can take what’s mine, you’ve severely miscalculated.”

“If yer referring to Claire, it seems yer the one who’s miscalculated.” Jamie uncurled his fists, he needed to keep his cool. Being arrested for assault would only delay his finding Claire. “Dr. Beauchamp canceled her order earlier in the week. Said the wedding was called off. Why would she be here?”

 

Randall looked from Jamie to John and back to Jamie. “So she isn’t with you?” He reached into his pocket for his mobile and began furiously tapping on the screen. “I should be thankful the press won’t think she left me for the bloody dressmaker.” Randall sighed heavily and jammed the mobile back in his pocket. “This is your fault, Fraser, feeding into her weaknesses!”

Jamie stepped closer, “Claire’s plenty strong, but ye wouldn’t know that because ye dinna know the first thing about her. Ye canna make her happy. Let her be.”

Randall’s face turned red with anger. “We’re getting married! She’s mine. It was only an argument!” His voice shrill with agitation. “You’ve just confused her.” Randall slammed a piece of paper on John’s desk.

 

Without taking his eyes off Randall, Jamie reached for the paper.

“She was very adamant that there would be no wedding,” John added with a perfectly straight face. “Given that you have been left at the proverbial alter, we’ll need assurances from both parties before we resume work on the dress. Maybe you’ll have another notion of where Claire went – I mean other than to Jamie, of course.” John smiled politely.

Jamie glanced at John. He made a quick mental note to increase Grey’s Christmas bonus and to never play poker against the man.

Jamie’s eyes dropped to the paper in his hand. He immediately recognized it as a torn page from one his sketchbooks. It was a quick pencil sketch of a woman in a backless dress. The woman had a mole on her upper left shoulder blade and her face was turned in profile. The drawing was rough, but it was unmistakably Claire. Jamie had decided against the design and discarded the page.

“Do you deny you gave that to her?” Randall hit the page as he pointed to it.

Jamie searched his memory. He’d completed the sketch in his flat. Claire must have taken it from the shred bin in his guest bedroom the night she stayed over.

 

Jamie felt a surge of adrenaline course through his body, his muscles coiling and retracting with a primal urge to explode in violence. “How did ye get this?” His voice as dangerous and sharp as a guillotine.

Randall stepped back. Jamie advanced. Randall attempted to hold his ground but nervously looked to Grey; as if imploring a ringmaster to control his beast. Grey’s icy gaze confirmed he’d gladly watch Fraser tear him limb from limb. Jamie moved his arm. Randall flinched, “I took it from her flat!” Randall’s breathing was fast. Jamie’s eyes narrowed in silent command for him to continue. “The night of the gala..she..she broke up with me – talking nonsense about me not knowing her! She was simply nervous. That’s how she is – too much passion – it leads her astray. She’d turned off her phone and I couldn’t reach her. The next day, I used my spare key to enter her flat.”

Jamie scoffed in disbelief as he yanked Randall by the wrist. “This is merely a sketch. Why did ye think she came to me?”

Randall remained silent. Jamie squeezed.

Randall’s face contorted in pain, “because I also found an oversized rugby shirt in a suitcase on her bed! Unhand me, you barbarian!”

Jamie ignored his protests, “what’s that to do with me?”

“Because she came home and I confronted her.”

Jamie released Randall’s wrist and grabbed him two-handed by the shirt. He brought Randall within an inch of his face. “Ye’ve got three seconds to collect yerself and then ye’ll be tellin’ me everythin’ that happened.”

“She…she…” Randall began to stammer.

Jamie stepped back to give Randall his three seconds. Randall took but one.

“She said the shirt was yours – told me how she stayed with you when she got too involved with a patient. Said I didn’t understand her and I needed someone else. She advanced her leave time and was going away to the Canary Islands until after the new year. Told me to leave. And I left!”

 

“Yet yer here?” Jamie folder his arms.

“Claire’s a horrible liar and I’d seen her suitcase. She wasn’t going anywhere warm. I..I stayed outside her flat to…well… I fell asleep in my car and she must have left.”

Jamie picked up Randall’s overcoat that had fallen to the ground. “I’ll find Claire – see that she’s safe. She’s no longer yer concern.” Randall took the coat from Jamie’s hand. “If ye come near her again, without her express permission, ye’ll have no time to collect yerself.”

Randall forced his arms through the sleeves. “I’ll sue you! I won’t pay for the dress!”

“I dinna want yer money, I’ve gotten everythin’ I need from ye already.”

 

*******

  
Jamie’s fingers tapped the doorframe of the fifth floor entry way to the pediatric oncology wing of Claire’s hospital. He carefully scanned the medical personnel until he spotted a female nurse in her early sixties. She was near a window, presumably on break. He crossed himself and asked for divine assistance and forgiveness.

“Hello, lass,” Jamie said in greeting to the nurse. She looked up from her mobile, her annoyance dissipating as she registered his broad smile and even broader shoulders.

Jamie deepened his voice and leaned in conspiratorially, “I know yer off duty, but would ye mind helping me out?” The woman looked around and slowly returned Jamie’s smile. “Och, are those yer children?” Jamie motioned to the lock screen of the nurse’s mobile. “Bonny. Such a blessin’.”

Her smile turned into a full blown grin. “Those are my grandchildren.”

Jamie shook his head. “Grandchildren? Yer lying, ye canna be old enough for those.”

She continued to smile and shyly touched her neck. “How can I help?”

 

********

  
“Damn ye, woman!” Jamie cursed as he sped off in the rental car he’d picked up an hour earlier from the airport in Stornoway. Nurse Thomas, who happened to have a Scottish great grandmother, had graciously contacted the scheduling coordinator and obtained Claire’s emergency contact number while on her advanced holiday. Jamie called and discovered the number belonged to a small bed and breakfast on Eilean Leòdhas. Only the woman he loved would flee to the Western Isles in the dead of winter. He’d booked the first flight out. Once he arrived at the B&B, his fluency in Gaelic had convinced the owner to divulge Claire had went to the Standing Stones at Calanais.

The tires of Jamie’s Audi screeched to a stop in the car park of the archeological site. His heart raced as he looked out at the large prehistoric monoliths. It was early afternoon, but given the time of year, the light was already fading. He took one final deep breath and sprinted to the stones. He circled once and didn’t see Claire. His heart hiccuped an irregular beat. The wind whistled through the stones and an eerie dampness settled in Jamie’s bones.

“Claire!” He yelled.   
  
He ran once more around the stones and still did not see her. A chill coated his skin and the stones vibrated in warning. “Claaairre!”

He looked to his left, to a spot he’d searched not five seconds before, and there she was but 10 meters from him.

She was bundled in a fuzzy knit hat, scarf, and mittens. She gripped her puffy jacket closer to her chest as she stood transfixed by a large stone.

“Sorcha!”

She’d heard him, but she looked the opposite direction.

  
Claire heard a voice, but looked and saw nothing. She shook her head and opened the tourist pamphlet she’d taken from the visitor centre. She quickly dropped it when she heard the voice again. This time she recognized it. It was Jamie. She looked amongst the stones and still saw nothing. The wind picked up and the stones seemed to buzz and hum with its force. She stepped closer to a large stone and felt as though ice water had been poured directly into her spinal column. She shivered and heard Jamie’s voice again. She frantically turned around and when she looked back he was within arms reach.

“Ah!” Claire jumped back. “You’re real?”

“Aye! Christ, I’ve been looking for ye! I got yer letter.”

Claire stared, still unconvinced he was real. “Why are you here?”

“For us,” he said simply. She saw relief wash over his face. “Ye called off yer wedding.”

“Yes…I did pay for the dress though…”

Jamie snorted, “I’m no here about the dress. Claire, lass, stop backing away from me.” He outstretched his arm, “here, come to me, come.”

She watched as his fingers beckoned her forward. She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his. He pulled her toward him and she closed her eyes in anticipation of his warmth, but she felt none. She quickly pulled back and realized he was dressed in nothing more than a thin wool shirt. She brought her mittened hands to his face. His lips were slightly blue and his teeth gently clattered as he tried to smile.

 

“Jamie!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the visitor centre’s café.

“Sit!” She ordered as they reached the first available table. She removed her mittens and wrapped her scarf around his neck. “How did you find me? Where are your clothes? What are you doing here?!”

Jamie opened his mouth, but then closed it. He simply smiled and closed his eyes while she continued to chastise him for nearly freezing to death. He opened his eyes when he felt both her hands cup his cheeks.

Claire peered into his face. His eyes were bright, but there were dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept for a week. She moved her hands to his jaw and felt the growth of his beard. She pulled back and saw how gaunt and pronounced his cheekbones had become. Given his level of fitness, he probably couldn’t tolerate more than a few hours without food.

His hand reached up and touched the side of her neck and jaw. Her eyes closed and she turned into his touch. His thumb traced her lips. “ _Bòidheach_. _Tha_ _gaol_ _agam_ _ort_.”

Claire’s eyes opened and she looked back to him. She thought to make a joke about his use of Gaelic, but when she saw his eyes she stayed silent. Claire noticed a female cashier staring at them, a knowing smile on the woman’s face.

Claire cleared her throat and turned get him something to eat. She felt his hand on her wrist, his eyes wide with worry. “You need food, I’ll be right back.” She placed her hand over his. “I’ll come back, I promise.”

He nodded and he released her.

 

She returned, sat and placed a small meat pie and a steaming cup of tea before him. Jamie laid his hand flat on the table for Claire to take. She pushed the pie toward him, “eat first.” He swallowed the pie in three large bites, his eyes never leaving her. She pointed to the tea. He began to gulp it. “Careful! You’ll burn your mouth.” He slowed and took a small sip. He sat the cup down and laid his hand flat again.

Her lips compressed and she ignored his hand. “How did you find me?”

So she meant to resume her questions. _Stubborn_. “Threats of violence, shameless flirting and Gaelic.” Jamie kept his hand on the table and smiled.

Her brows knitted and her bottom lip poked out. Jamie couldn’t wait to suck on it.

She glanced to his hand and then back to his face. “Where are your clothes?”

“I forgot them in the car. Though, I didn’t bring much. I was rushin; afraid ye’d go through the stones and I’d have to watch yet another man try to take ye to wife.”

Her brows went to her hairline. She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. She felt his forehead. _He couldn’t actually be hypothermic? Was he delirious?_

She sat back, still ignoring his hand. Jamie patiently waited for her final question.

“What did you mean, you came for ‘us’?”

She watched the long column of his muscular neck move under her scarf as he swallowed. 

“I’m no longer wi Geneva. I came to ask if ye’ll have me?”

 

 


	13. Earbsa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Jamie discuss their future

”

 

“I came to ask if ye’ll have me?”

His words made no sense. It were as if Claire were watching her favorite television show dubbed in a foreign language. She saw Jamie’s mouth move in the accustomed way to form known words, but she had no comprehension of his speech.

“Wot?”

“I said- “

She jolted back. As with listening to a person speak in an incomprehensible accent, her brain processed the context and gave sudden meaning to his words.

“No! Wot? How?” Claire began shaking her head. “I saw you!” She pushed back from the table and stood.

Jamie stood as well. He watched her eyes fill with unshed tears.

“You left with Geneva! You left with her! I saw…I saw you were happy!”

Claire looked toward the exit. Jamie quickly came around the table to block her view of the door.

 

“I dinna ken what ye saw, but I wasna happy. I havena been happy since I met ye. Wanting ye, while ye planned to give yerself to another.” Jamie tried to meet her eyes as she looked down. “I ended it with Geneva that night. I meant to end it before, but…well..I was stupid. Geneva knew I couldna be wi her..knew what I felt for ye…whatever ye saw was her being spiteful.”

She slowly looked back to him; her hand to her chest as her chin began to wobble. He stepped closer.

“But..but..I was getting married. Why would you break up-“

Jamie shrugged, “I canna be with anyone else.”

“But, but..”

“Lord, yer a stubborn woman!”

“Am not!”

Jamie smirked, “Aye ye are. Why’d ye take the drawing from my flat?”

Claire’s eyes went round.

“And why’d you steal my rugby shirt?”

Claire brushed at her sleeve. “I didn’t steal it.”

“Oh, so ye were gonna send it through the post after ye finished givin it a tour of my homeland?”

Her eyes narrowed as a small smile lurked at the corner of her lips; the result caused her to pout, a pout that Jamie felt in his groin.

“And why’d ye write me that letter? Ye wrote ‘I can’t adequately express what meeting you has meant to me’. Well, tell me now, tell me forever, because I’m yers if ye’ll have me?”

Claire’s vision blurred as tears slid down her cheeks and joined under chin. She reached out to her future, placing her hands on his chest. “Yes, yes I’ll have you.”

Jamie crushed her to his chest. He buried his face in her neck as he mumbled in Gaelic.

“Ja…mie…I can’t breathe..”

“Och!” He let her go, his hands coming to cup her face. “Sorry! Lass, I’m sorry.”

She smiled and placed her hands over his.

“May I kiss ye?”

 

She nodded, unable to speak. His eyes went to her lips. She smiled in encouragement. They moved forward as she brought her hands back to his chest. Their lips touched briefly. Claire raised on her tippy toes to gain better access to his mouth. His lips were supple and he tasted of meat pie. She brought her hand to his nape, pulled him closer, and ran her tongue between his lips. He sighed and her hand tightened in his hair. When she lowered herself, Jamie moved one hand to her hip, the other to her jaw where his thumb forced her head up. She gasped as he bit her bottom lip. He smiled while still attached to her lip and gently pulled back. She moved with him and moaned. He released his teeth, titled his head and slowly licked the entire length of her bottom lip. He opened his eyes and sucked the swollen lip deep into his mouth.

 

“Ahem!”

 

They broke apart like teenagers. Now three employees of the café, two women and one man, were openly grinning at them. An older man with a clipboard pointed to a clock on the wall. “Lad, we’re about to close for the day. Ye and Miss Elizabeth Bennet here,” pointing his clipboard at Claire, “best be on yer way.”

“Oh god,” Claire covered her face and tried to disappear into Jamie’s shoulder. He brought his arms around her and made their apologies in Gaelic.

 

Once outside, hands entwined, Claire started toward the car park.

Jamie stopped and tightened his grip on her hand. “Let’s go ‘round back. We can get to the cars from there.”

“But this way is faster. You need to get out of the cold.” She tried to pull him forward. Forward toward the stones. He didn’t budge.

“No, Claire. We’ll go this way.”

His voice was causal, but Claire could detect the strain…. and perhaps fear in it. She looked back at the stones and felt a single drop of ice water enter her spine. Jamie grasped her around the waist and they went the long way to their cars.

***********

  
“Would you like some tea? I also have hot chocolate? Claire asked as she disappeared into the kitchen. Though the property was a bed and breakfast, she had rented one of the small cottages on the premises.

“Nay.”

Jamie dropped his overnight bag in the foyer and looked around. He picked up a small square of peat that she must have purchased as a souvenir. He sniffed it and laughed. Sassenachs. But she was his Sassenach. As long she continued to choose him, he wouldn’t let anyone or anything separate them. He spotted his rugby shirt thrown across the back of a chair. He picked it up and turned to tease her about it.

“I…” Whatever Claire was about to say died on her lips when she saw him with the shirt.

Jamie smiled, “it’s fine, ye can keep it.” She looked stricken. “Are ye okay?”

“Yes,” her voice was tight.

She lunged for the shirt and hugged it to her body. On the floor between them lay a pair of her knickers. They must have been entangled in the shirt and Jamie hadn’t noticed.

He watched a deep blush crawl across her face as she crouched to pick them up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting…”

“So ye dinna like whiskey, yer stubborn and messy. Anythin else I should know?” He tried to wink at her.

They both burst into laughter. Once the hilarity passed, they stood silently staring at each other. Claire felt an awkwardness she’d never experienced with him.

 

“‘Tis different, no?” He brushed a stray curl behind her ear.

Her eyes closed at his touch. “Yes.” His hand continued to the sensitive spot right behind her jaw. By now she knew what to expect, knew what his hands on her body birthed within her; a yearning and a freedom without end. She felt his fingers move to caressl the notch at the bottom of her throat.

“Open yer eyes.”

She did and saw into his. They were clear, yet full. Full of lust, relief, concern, humor, nervousness, and love. He hid nothing from her. He’d said he would be hers and she knew he meant it. There was no longer need for restraint. She could have him in anyway she wanted; over and over, to please and to be pleased, to love and to be loved, to understand and to be understood. But would it last?

His hand dropped. Disconnected from him, the awkwardness crept back. “I’ll put these away.” She’d realized she still held the clothes. When she returned, Jamie was seated at the small table in the kitchen. He watched her wring her hands and sit opposite him.

 

“Claire, I’m no expectin anythin. We’ve time. I can sleep on the sofa or find a hotel.” Jamie was in such a rush, he hadn’t fully considered how they might begin. Geneva was a relationship of shared convenience for him, but Claire was to marry Randall. It was like a dagger in the throat to know, but a part of her must mourn the man.

“Thank you. I didn’t expect anything less.” She stared at her lap.  
  
“Do ye want me to go?”

She placed her hand on the table, palm up. Jamie immediately took it.

“No, no, I don’t want you go. But-“

“But ye want to tell me about Frank?”

She tried to pull her hand away, but Jamie wouldn’t let go.

Claire stared back into the fullness of his eyes, “will it always be like this? You knowing my mind before I do?”

Jamie brought his other hand to cover hers.

Claire took a deep breath, “I loved Frank. A lot.” To his credit, Jamie didn’t so much as flinch. “I don’t know if I told you, but my parents died when I was young, I was raised by my uncle. It was a vagabond existence, he was an archaeologist, and took me all over the world.”

“An archeologist, ye say?”

“Yes, it was an amazing childhood, but it left me… disconnected. I never had a place or a home. I knew I wanted to be a doctor, but medical school is hard, very hard. Especially, when, well my uncle passed away halfway through my studies – not long before I met Frank. He, Frank, he looked after me; made sure I slept, wasn’t studying too hard, sent me meals, bought me winter clothes. At the time, I needed that. It let me focus on becoming a doctor. I didn’t realize…”

“That he was grooming ye to be someone ye arena?”

Claire snorted, “Yes, Mr. Perceptive. You really should teach psychology.”

“Nay,” Jamie’s thumb caressed the back of her hand, “I’ve plenty of my own blind spots, Geneva being one. But I do understand. Yer afraid the same will happen wi me- that maybe ye could love me, but dinna trust yerself to know if I’ll do right by ye.”

Her other hand joined the three on the table as she slowly nodded.

 

“Claire, look at me. I meant what I said. We’ve time. There’s no rush. I’m fine waiting so ye can work everythin out in yer mind. But I want yer honesty. I want to know how ye think and feel and I’ll promise ye the same. That way we can be true to ourselves. Do ye agree?”

Her shoulders fell in relief. “Yes, I agree. You have my honesty.”

“And yer willing give me a chance?”

Claire laughed, “how could I not? You always bloody know what to say! Speaking of that, what did you say at the café? It was Gaelic, wasn’t it?”

“I promised ye honesty, but no all my secrets…some ye’ll have to discover on yer own.” He brought her hands to his lips.

Her skin tingled at his touch, “Fine, Mr. Fraser. But I’m a good sleuth and a good ear.” She squeezed his hands. “Where’s Fergus though?”  
  
“With Marsali. She’s also from the Highlands – spends Christmas and Hogmanay up there. She took him wi her. I’ll grab him on my way home to Lallybroch…it’s where I grew up and my parents still live.” With any luck, next year she’d come with him; his family and home becoming hers.

 

“I see, well do you want to grab dinner?” Claire made to stand.

Jamie didn’t release her hands. “Sassenach…”

Claire smiled at the term.

“I must ask ye somethin first. Ye must tell me plain.”

Claire noticed the strain had returned to his voice. “Yes?” She replied, wary.

“Why did ye come here? To Leòdhas..the Isle of Lewis, I mean?”

“Oh, well they speak Gaelic here, don’t they? I wanted to feel closer to you.” Her fingers closing on three of his own.

He nodded, “Aye, and the stones? Why’d ye go there? Did ye know where ye went?”

Her face screwed in confusion. “Went? The Callanish Stones and black pudding are what you do here.” She remembered his odd statement about the stones while they were at the café.

“Have ye been to such places before? Ye said yer uncle was an archeologist.”

“Well..yes..I’ve always been drawn to archeological sites… some more than others. Uncle Lamb was always teaching me to respect them, to not disturb or get too close. Actually..”

“Aye?” Jamie squeezed her hand.

“Well Frank and I had that in common. He’d mention all the sites he wanted to visit. I’d been to some of them already. He’d get excited - asking me to explain in detail everything about them. Once…well when I finished residency, we went to Jamaica. He wanted to show me an underground pool in a cave that he heard was archeologically significant. We couldn’t go because the cave had collapsed. Ouch.”

“Och! Forgive me.” Jamie had started to grind the bones of her hands together.

“Anyhow, Frank promised to take me to a site he found in New Zealand. That’s where we were going for our honeymoon. Oh, and a place in Scotland when we got back….Craigh na something. Jamie, what on earth is wrong? We don’t need to do any of those things…”

“Listen to me Claire.”

His tone caused her to sit up straighter.

“I’ll try to find ye always. But..ye could go where I canna follow. You must promise me that ye’ll never go to any place that pulls ye. Promise me?”

“Jamie, I don’t under..”

“Sassenach, please! Please would ye humor me?”

“Okay, okay I promise.” Her fingers resting over the racing pulse of his wrist. “You have my word. But you’re scaring me.” She brought her thumb to his chin. “You promised me honesty?”

Jamie exhaled. “Scots are superstitious, ken? There are stories of certain people…usually women..who can be sent away by being near standing stones. I guess it could apply to other places as well.”

“Wot? Sent where? Those are folktales. You can’t..”

“Aye, but I ken what I saw. Why couldna we see each other? Ye just appeared.”

With everything, Claire had all but forgotten about the strange sounds and sensations of the stones.

“Ye said yer uncle didna want ye to go near the sites?”

“Yes...” Her brow marred in memory and concentration.

Jamie was quiet, letting her come to the conclusion on her own.

The chill returned to her spine. “But, Frank, he always wanted me to go.”

 


	14. The Final Fitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

 

”

 

The razor glided just above Claire’s ankle bone. She stopped at her knee and felt the smooth rewards of her efforts. Her damp curls clung to her face and neck like ivy as she inhaled the humid air of her shower. Just on the other side of the bathroom door was Jamie. After his strange tale, ice water seems to invade every portion of her body; from the long bones of her legs to the smallest capillaries of her lungs. She turned the water hotter and breathed deep, waiting for the chill to leech through her skin.

She’d quizzed Jamie on everything he knew of _The Woman from Balnain_. A woman who touched a standing stone and traveled through time. A woman, who from destiny or choice, lived and loved while displaced from her tether to known existence and experience.

 _But did she believe it?_ She was a woman of reason; of science and rational thought. And so was Frank. No, no she didn’t believe it. She would keep her promise to Jamie, she would avoid all the places where superstition thrived, but no, this was not her folklore.

She stepped from the shower. _Jamie_. The thought of him made her smile as it had from the first. If she had a destiny, it was with him. Warmth burned in her body once more. She quickly toweled off, slipped on her knickers, sleep trousers and his rugby shirt. She reached for the bathroom door and stopped.

 

_Destiny_

 

She slid off the trousers and walked bare legged into the kitchen.

Jamie was hunched over a sketchbook at the kitchen counter. His body was precariously balanced on a small stool as his hand glided along the page.

“Did you forget you glasses? You’ll go blind if your face gets any closer to that page?” Claire teased.

“Aye, and it will be your fault…” The grin faded from Jamie’s face when he saw her legs. Long and smooth, he imagined those thighs pressed tight against his ears. He watched as she shyly touched her curls and pressed forward.

“Stop.” He held up his hand, a broad smile replacing the grin. “Mid calf or floor length?

Claire smiled in understanding as he picked up his discarded pencil. “Umm floor.” She started to walk closer.

“Stay put, Sassenach. This is serious.” The pencil flying across the page. “Now, purple or deep blue?”

“Purple.” She lifted a foot off the floor.

“Och, stubborn woman, be still.” A deep purple color pencil in his hand. “Okay, backless or…cleavage?”

“I’d say cleavage.” Her breasts tingled as his gaze shifted to her chest and then back to his sketchbook. She took a small step.

“Hmm, good.” Jamie was staring intently at the page. “Form fitting or..”

“Definitely form fitting.”

Jamie snorted and began to close the book. “Perfect. Thank ye.”

Claire sprinted to him. “Let me see. I want to see!” Jamie stood as she futilely reached for the sketchbook as he held it over his head and out of her reach.

“Nay, it’s no’ finished. Bad luck. I told ye, superstitious.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose. “And dinna pout - gives me impure thoughts.”

Her towel dried curls swung heavy as she shook her head in laughter. “I suppose this is one of those secrets I have to figure out? Hmm? And I don’t pout, so any impure thoughts are clearly of your own design.” She pushed him back onto the stool and stood between his legs.

“Stubborn, lass, ye do pout.” He brushed a curl behind her ear, if only to keep his hands off her thighs. Suddenly, she buried herself into his chest. “Oi, ye got the shirt, but dinna tackle me to the floor.” His hands running up and down her back. “Christ, yer so cold.”

“Stay.” Her words muffled in his neck.

“Yer sure? It’s no problem for me to..”

She silenced him with a kiss as her arms wound around his neck. “I’m sure.” She felt his hands resting on the small of her back, just as when they danced at gala. She reached behind and pushed his hands to her arse.

“Better?”

“Mmmm,” he sighed, “much, I’ve wanted my hands on yer arse for a very long time.” He began to knead her buttocks. Claire wiggled closer and he felt himself harden. “I’ll go shower.” He brought their foreheads together.

Claire saw him wince as he stood. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to..well..I didn’t think….that you would so fast….”

Jamie smirked. “There’s no sense in hiding whatcha do to me. But dinna fash, my baws are a cerulean blue at this point. The couch is fine.”

“Nice try, Fraser. You told me you broke up with Geneva the night of the Gala.”

He smiled silently and started to walk past her.

“Wait,” Claire’s hand on his shoulder, “you don’t mean that you haven’t…that you two weren’t…”

“I havena had sex since I’ve met ye.”

Her mouth fell open.

“And ye know the reason why.” His thumb wiped a tear that had just fallen to her cheek.

“Jamie, I, Fra..”

He quieted her with his thumb, “it doesna matter, yer here with me now. I’d wait two hundred years for ye. Jamie cupped her face. “Dinna cry, lass.”

“Oh, Jamie, I can’t explain myself the way you can!” Her frustration evident.

He rubbed her nose with his, “‘tis alright, I ken. Ye think wi yer body. It’s how ye express yerself, no? Puzzle things out?” He smiled at her shock. “I noticed during the fittings; yer face, yer shoulders, yer hands, the way ye move.” He bopped her nose, “ye coming to me with yer legs bare.”

“Oh, and what were my legs telling you?”

“That ye decided I could stay. I dinna think ye could have said that fully clothed.”

 

Claire laughed and allowed him to pass. Once she heard the shower start, her anxiety started to increase. She puttered around the cozy cabin, picking up items only to immediately set them down. She might not be able to read him as he could her, but he wasn’t entirely a closed book. She knew he went to shower to give her time to think. He assumed staying meant sleeping on the sofa. To be fair, it was a large comfortable sofa that would accommodate even his large frame, but did she want that? _What did her body think? Ugh! Damn him, what did that even mean?_

 

Jamie emerged from the bathroom in flannel sleep trousers and a long sleeved t shirt. “Is somethin’ wrong?” He saw Claire folded onto the sofa staring at him.

She blinked. “How did you manage to get more attractive during a 20 minute shower?”

It was his turn to blush.

“Oh god, the words were spoken aloud?” Claire reached for the television remote to prevent herself from hiding behind the sofa pillows. She felt the couch sink as he sat next to her, but she wasn’t ready to look at him. “I was thinking Netflix?”

“Sure, Netflix and chill sounds perrrrfect.” Jamie intentionally exaggerated his natural burr.

 _Damn_ _him_. She kept her eyes straight and began to punch in her passcode. “Hey, no peeking!” She pushed him away as he tried to see her code. “We’re not at that stage, Fraser.”

“Yet,” he smirked.

Her eyes went to his wide mouth. _Shit_ , _focus_ _Beauchamp_. _You’re_ _not_ _looking_ _at_ _him_ _remember_!

Her account popped up with the last movie she viewed. It was the romcom she’d watched after Geneva interrupted their fitting. She quickly tried to navigate to other options. “We could watch something with explosions or..fashion models?” _What?!_ _Stop_ _talking!!_

Distracted by her mortification, Jamie was able to swipe the remote from Claire’s hand. “No, I’d rather finish this movie ye started…’A Princess for Christmas’? Any good?” Much to his delight, she started to squirm like a worm on a fishhook.

“I’ve seen that. I don’t know why it says I just started it.” Claire strived for nonchalance as she reached to grab the remote from him.

Jamie moved the remote to his far hand. She’d have to move closer to retrieve it. _Damn_ _him!_

“Says it’s a 97% match for yer tastes,” his eyes alight with mischief, “I crashed yer getaway, so it’s only fair we watch something ye like.”

Her eyes narrowed. _Two could play at this game._ “Fine. Let’s watch it. I watch it every Christmas.” She ignored his chuckle, straightened her shoulders and turned her attention to the screen.

Any doubts Jamie had about Claire’s shrewdness were quickly extinguished because what followed was ninety-one minutes of pure torture.

She pressed play and scooted closer, “I really like this actor. Scottish, actually. In his current show, he works on Mars and falls in love with an alien.”

“What? Sounds daft.”

“It’s very romantic. Ssshh quiet. Don’t you think he’s handsome?” She placed a hand on his thigh.

“Ppft. Him?! He..ye canna find him attractive?”

“Sure, I do. Lots do – women and men. He’s often naked on his new show.” She turned in time to see his lips pressed in a straight line. She moved her hand higher on this thigh.

“Ye said he was a Scot, why’s he speakin like a sassenach? They’re not even in the U.K.” His mood could best be described as sulking.

“Because Americans. Ssshhh! Don’t you like his riding breeches? Well designed..hmm?” She curled into his side.

“Och. His dancin is embarrassing! Ye canna, ye canna..”

“Oh, I can. I definitely can.” She poked his side.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her close; his mouth at her temple. “Claire Beauchamp, yer a wicked wee thing.”

She shrugged and snuggled closer, nervousness forgotten.

“Next time it’s rugby, ye ken?”

 

They watched the rest of the movie in silence. Hands entwining and caressing, lips lightly brushing ears, noses to throats. Slowly, they fell asleep. Jamie awoke to Claire snoring lightly while nestled tightly in his side. He couldn’t wait to tease her about it. He then shifted uncomfortably. It was hot and he had to piss. She had quite the grip in her sleep, but Jamie eventually made it to the bathroom. Upon exiting, he discarded his shirt and decided to grab a lighter weight undershirt from his overnight bag. He stopped when he noticed Claire was awake. She was in the dark, sitting cross legged on the sofa, staring at him. Unlike before her gaze was direct. Undershirt forgotten, he walked into the living room.

 _He_ _was_ _too_ _bloody_ _fit_. As the moonlight danced across his skin, Claire clocked the width of his shoulders, the roped layers of muscle leading to his biceps and down to his forearms. She watched as he sat one hand on his narrow waist. She licked her lips, imagining nipping her way from his taught belly button down to his cock.

Jamie saw her eyes linger on his waistband. He reached for the drawstring of his trousers. He pulled the string, but the trousers remained firmly in place. He dropped his hand and he heard her sigh in annoyance. He smirked at her pout. In one swift move he yanked off the trousers. He was wearing black boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. His hand hovered in front of his groin as he raised an eyebrow in question. Claire slowly nodded. He brought a hand on top of the fabric and began to massage himself.

Claire stood and tore off the rugby shirt. Standing in only lacy panties, she felt dizzy as her heart pounded and wetness grew between her legs. As Jamie looked her over, she saw herself through her eyes. Strong. Capable. Beautiful.

She closed the distance between them. “We never had our final fitting.” She placed his hand on her breast.

His thumb circled her erect nipple. “Aye. The dress was almost complete, but I needed to make sure it hugged yer hips and arse just right.” His large hands slid down her sides, pass the flare of her hips and cupped her bottom. She fell forward and opened her mouth onto his collarbone. “Then the top.” He brought his hands to her breasts and then to her neck. “The top had to sit at just the right spot.” He bent and kissed the hollow of her neck. The dizziness returned and she grabbed his arms to steady herself. “Claire, yer the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She snorted and pushed him away. “All those models? Maybe you are going blind.”

He grabbed her chin. “I will never lie to ye. I say it because it’s true. Aye?”

He waited.

“Yes.” She forced down the tears and reached for his waistband. She pushed down the briefs, his arousal springing free. He stepped from the briefs and she grabbed him two handed and began to stroke. He groaned in her ear as he gripped her hair. She moved a hand to his balls, cupping and fondling the warmth of him.

“Claire.” He stilled her hands. “This I need to hear. This ye must tell tell me.”

Her eyes locked to his, “Jamie, I want you. Please, make love to me. Yes, yes, I’m sure.”

She stepped back and reached for her panties. Jamie quickly slipped his hands underneath hers and kneeled as he pulled them down. He slid a finger inside as he rose. He pulled out slowly and began to circle the wet swollen heat of her. She whimpered and her knees buckled. He caught and lifted her easily, “come, I’ll take care of ye.”

 

He deposited her on the bed and then was gone. “Jamie?” He returned, smiling, as he crawled between her legs. He put three condoms on the bedside table and kissed her as she fell against the mattress.

She laughed in his mouth. “I thought you weren’t expecting anything..hmm?” She jabbed his side.

“Och. I wasna, but a man can still hope.”

He took her smiling mouth. Their tongues danced and hands roamed freely. Claire began to move from side to side beneath him, reveling in the feel of his cock trapped on top of her belly.

“Christ Sassenach..” He raked his teeth down her throat. Claire began to buck against him. He slid down and sucked on a nipple while his other hand squeezed the opposite breast.

Claire raised her knees to prevent him from moving further down her body. “Come here!” She grabbed his head.

“But I want to..” he snaked a hand to her mound.

“Later,” her breath coming short, “right now I need you inside me! Right now!”

He rose up, bit her bottom lip, and reached for the condoms. She looked down her body, legs spread, as he sat back on his heels, cock in hand. With the condom on, he pushed one of her thighs flat with a hand, he used his knee to spread her other thigh wide. He leaned forward and entered her in one quick movement.

“Ah, Jamie, Jamie,” her arms came to his back. “Oh god.” She bit her own lip as she stretched to accommodate his girth.

“I ken…” he panted in her ear as he began to move within her. This was better than all the fantasies he’d been entertaining about this moment. _A_ _Dhia_ , she was so tight and so slick. He closed his eyes and let his body take over.

Claire writhed beneath him, meeting each thrust and trying to get closer. “Urg...” She bit his shoulder and grabbed his arse, urging him on. In response, his thrusts became deeper and more powerful. Her whole body was held willing captive to his power. Their bodies slick with sweat, Claire raised up and ran her tongue in his ear.

“Arhh..” he moaned in her shoulder and completed two deep thrusts that hit her cervix.

“Aaa!” Claire’s body shook.

“Sorry, sorry.” He grabbed her hips and pushed her entire body further down the bed. He hooked her leg over his hip and continued in a new angle that allowed his complete unfettered penetration.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod….” Claire felt her body coiling in on itself, her release close. She kissed and panted in his mouth. She was so close….

A deep guttural sound exploded from Jamie as he lost himself. Claire held him as tiny shockwaves flooded his body in the wake of his release. Their bodies flush, she felt his breathing and heart rate begin to normalize. She brushed a sweaty lock from his forehead and kissed him deeply.

“Claire, sorry, I couldna..”

“Ssshh…” she kissed him again.

Still joined, he buried his face in her neck. Slowly she felt him start to move again.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

She thought she was imagining it, but he was definitely becoming aroused again.

He brought his hands to either side of her head, nose touching hers. “Woulda ye mind if we…”

“No, no I wouldn’t mind, but so soon?”

He shrugged helplessly, “I canna help it.”

He pulled out, replaced the condom, and settled behind her. Claire tried to turn around, but his arm came tight around her. “Be still, _mo_ _ghraigh_ , I want to please ye.” She relaxed her back against his chest, spooned on their sides, she felt his breath hot on her neck, “I want ye to burn for me the way I do for ye.” He pushed his hardness against her arse. She whimpered and pushed her hips back and wiggled her arse against him. His tongue flicked her earlobe, “that’s it lass, show me what ye need.” His hand squeezed her breast and then grasped her jaw, pulling her head back over her shoulder to look at him, “I’m yers, but I mean to make ye mine.” He released her face and moved his hand past the swell of her hip and around to the front of her need. She jolted as his fingers made slow circles at her apex. “Hmmm, like this? Does it feel good?”

“Yes, yes don’t stop,” Claire began to grind against his hand.

He bit her shoulder. She lifted her leg and guided him to her entrance. He thrust forward and filled her completely.

“Jamie, Jamie!”

His hips and fingers began to move in tandem. Heat flooded her entire body. She was surrounded by him, there was no place to hide. Her mind and body balanced on a precipice.

“Let go, lass. Yer mine, come for me. _Tha_ _goal_ _agam_ _ort_.”

Her body jerked. Her nails dug painfully into his wrist as her body stilled and her contractions began. For 20 seconds her body gripped and released him, again and again. Jamie pushed his hips as far forward as possible to feel the heat of her pulling him deeper. Her body shook slightly as her orgasm began to pass. She sighed in pleasure; spent from the force and emotion of her release.

Jamie needed to see her face. He rolled on top of her, brushing the curls from her face. He thrust home twice and grunted his own release into her mouth, “Claire, oh god, Claire.”

Coming back to awareness he nuzzled at her neck and kissed her jaw. “Open yer eyes.”

She lazily smiled and a sliver of her smoke whisky eyes peeked through. He ran a thumb across her lips and her eyes opened fully. He saw her satisfaction, her submission, her dominance, and her trust and love.

“I love ye, Claire.”

She tried to rise.

He pressed a thumb to her mouth, “hush, I ken. Surprise me with it later, aye?”

She nodded as the tears slid toward her ears. He kissed them away and gathered her into his arms.

She closed her eyes; sated, soothed, and loved.

 


	15. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW again 😉. Claire seeks understand why Jamie is her OTP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for supporting this story!!! I read every single comment ♥️♥️♥️♥️& treasure every kudo.

”

 

  
Ignoring the cold that filled her lungs, she pressed forward. Not a thought spared for blistered feet or wind burned skin, her numbed fingers clawed at wet earth. The tartan slipped from her shoulders, but she continued. She would find him, she would save him.

 

Claire awoke with a gasp. She clutched the duvet to her neck. Slowly, awareness returned.

 _Scotland_. _Jamie_.

The aroma of fried eggs filled the air and the mid morning sun shone through the window. She swung her bare legs to the side of the bed and stood. A blush and a smile. Her hips ached and there was an unaccustomed openness to her body. _Jamie_.

She gingerly slipped into a plush robe from the adjoining bathroom and peeked around the corner. On the kitchen counter was a box of donuts. Next, she saw Jamie was standing near the sink, clad in only his boxer briefs. He was inhaling a plate of eggs, tomatoes, and black pudding – he seemed near starved. A surge of pride hit her; she’d done that to him.

She didn’t want to go to him just yet. It might be wrong to spy on him unawares, but it thrilled her – the thought of him going about his business while tucked in her environment because he’d chosen to be there. It was a heady feeling she’d never experienced; the possibility of a shared life without fear of loss of self. She watched as he casually scratched his arse and poured himself a cup of coffee. _Hm_. _coffee_? She’d only ever seen him drink tea. Suddenly, she wanted to know all his habits, all his likes and dislikes. It was then she discovered one of his faults. He had no sense of music. Her hand covered her smile as she listened to him hum a tuneless, rhythmless non melody. His mobile vibrated on the counter. He smiled broadly, scoped up the phone and hit the face time function. She saw a flash of a young boy’s face. _His_ _nephew_. He began speaking in Gaelic. It was no doubt his family wondering when to expect him for Christmas.

 

Claire returned to the bedroom. She knew he had a close knit family. Frank hadn’t. Probably why he wanted kids so quickly. But with Jamie she would have an instant extended family.

Claire walked to the bathroom. _Lord_

She stared wide eyed at her reflection. Her hair was as expected, but… She ran her tongue over the swollen left side of her lower lip and moved her shoulder closer to the mirror. Her fingers traced the bite mark. There was a forming blueish blob just above her clavicle, a love bite where her neck and shoulder met, and her left breast had a faint purple tinge to it. His laugh filtered from the kitchen. She tried to remember when and how he’d given her each one. The thought left her flustered and craving him once more. She sighed and went back to the bedroom. The last condom lay on the bedside table. Surely, she should have breakfast before entertaining that again.

 

She grabbed her mobile. It had been off since she left HF. Once on, the messages flooded in. Patients as expected, two missed calls from Jamie, Geillis confirming their Christmas plans, and multiple messages from Frank. She read only his last text,

 

 **Did** **you** **go?**

 

The mobile slipped from her hand and she backed into Jamie’s chest. On instinct she flinched forward and whipped around.

“Claire?” he reached out.

She pulled away.

Jamie felt the dagger in his gut, “do ye regret it then?”

“Wot?” She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, “No. No! Of course not, Jamie never.”

He pulled her arms down and peered into her face. He needed to see her eyes, needed to see the truth in her face.

“Jamie, you startled me is all…I..”

“I called yer name twice from the doorway, but ye didna turn around. Ye were talkin to Frank? Ye’d get the same look when he would contact ye at the studio.” He backed away. “I thought maybe ye wanted him still.”

Her hands went to her hips. “James Fraser, I don’t know if you’re suffering from sleep deprivation, dehydration, lack of whisky or some form of dementia, but I bloody well didn’t sleep with you as some type of experiment! I made my choice and it wasn’t Frank. If you never found me at the stones, it still wouldn’t have been Frank!” Her jaw set and she angrily swiped a curl from her face. “I did it because, because..” The robe had slipped open exposing her breast.

“Aye, I’m listenin.” A smirk and a face awash in relief.

“I did it because I want to be with you,” her voice softened, “always.” She slipped off the robe and placed her cheek flat over his heart. Her eyes closed as his arms encircled her. She felt the now familiar beat of his heart; strong and steady. His chest rose and fell beneath her hand. “Mine?” Her hand curled against his skin.

“Always.” He pulled back and placed a large hand between her breasts, “mine?”

“Yes.”

She pulled him down for a kiss.

“Lass, yer so cold. I dinna remember ye being so at HF.” His hands ran up and down her back, his tongue searing her neck.

“Bloody Scotland. Warm me, Jamie.”

 

She pushed him back toward the bed and fell on top of him as they kissed. “Is it always going to be like this?” She urged him back toward the headboard. “The wanting?”

“God, I hope so.”

He shimmied out of the briefs as she reached for the condom.

“I want food after this.” She sank down.

He laughed on her neck, hands entwined in her hair, “aye, I’ll keep ye fed _Sassenach_.” A hand dropped to squeeze her arse. “Just dinna stop.”

“I can’t.” She took his mouth and rode him slowly, her back and hips undulating so she she could enjoy every inch.

Jamie grasped her hips and tilted his pelvis in an effort to quicken her pace.

“Nope,” she grinned and pushed at his shoulders.

Jamie fell against the headboard, “ _A_ _Dhia_ , ye vixen. Yer tryna kill me.” His face contorted in frustrated pleasure. “My heart is gonna burst right here and it’ll be yer fault.”

Her laugh was unburdened and pure.

“Oh come now,” her voice seductive in his ear as she pulled him to her chest, “I’m a doctor, your heart is safe with me.” She rose up and stilled right before he slipped out. His breath fanned across her face as he began to pant.

“ _Sassenach_ , please.” One hand fisting in the sheet, the other squeezing her hip.

“Hush, just a bit longer.” Her fingers traced the strong line of his jaw, the razor edge of his nose, the prominent ridge of his brow. “I’ll let you have your revenge.” She cupped his face.

Jamie’s body began to shake as he fought against instinct. The urge to rise up and force her hips down was almost unbearable. He knew she needed this, needed to understand something from him. He had nothing left to give, nothing but himself, and so he did. He released her hip and relaxed his grip on the sheet. His breath evened and he locked his eyes to hers.

She saw it. His surrender. He no longer sought permission to have or please her. He wanted to be taken.

Frank never yielded to her. Not once. And neither did she. Their love making had always been a battle of wills. She assumed her lack of submission was a form of proud feminism, but it was the opposite. She’d allowed him to deny her; deny her pleasure, deny her heart, deny her love, deny her power.

 

Never Again.

 

Jamie groaned and she forced her body down and ground against him. She rose up and began a punishing pace. He made no move to touch her or match her movements. She fisted the hair at his nape, yanked his head back, and bit his jaw.

His eyes screwed tight. “Yers,” he blurted.

“Wot?” Breathless, her body moving faster.

“I’m yers, Claire.”

A strangled sob came from her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. She moved her hands to the sides of his neck and placed her forehead to his. She rode him even harder.

“Now?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, now.”

He felt her nod against his head as her tears hit his chest. He drove his hips up to meet her. One hand squeezed her nipple, the other curled at their joining; his knuckle providing the friction she craved.

“Aaah..” She thew her head back, chest bowed to him, her hands went behind her to rest on his shins.

Uncaged, she imploded.

“Christ.” Jamie whispered in wonder. He ran his hands under and around her breasts as she started to come back to herself. “By God,” awestruck, he pushed the untamed curls from her face. “What are ye?

He brought her to his chest. “ _Sorcha_ , _bidh_ _gaol_ _agam_ _ort_ _fad_ _mo_ _bheatha_ , _thu_ _fhèin_ _agus_ _chan_ _eil_ _duine_ _eile_.” She owned his soul.

He rolled them over. “Claire, I..I”

She smiled and ran a hand down the side of his jaw. “Have your revenge and welcome to it. Yours.”

Power unleashed, he rose on both arms, and rode her solid.

 

*******

 

“Try it, it’s so good.” Claire brought her sticky, sugar-goo covered hands to Jamie’s mouth.

“Uh-uh.” Jamie shook his head, mouth shut, as he dodged the offending donut piece.

“Fine, more for me.” She turned and nestled back between his legs.

They sat naked on the living room floor, surrounded by duvets, backs to the couch.

“I dinna see how ye can eat that – being a doctor.” He nibbled on her ear.

She chortled, “as a doctor I know nothing is guaranteed and everything in moderation.”

“Well hopefully, not everythin’.” He pinched her arse.

She wiggled. “Stop that, I’m trying to follow the complicated plot of this cinematic masterpiece.”

 

As punishment for her previous indiscretion, Jamie was making her binge the Fast and the Furious and all 75 of its sequels.  
Tomorrow they would leave; he to Lallybroch, Claire to London. He wanted to bring her with him, to give her his family. He knew it was too soon for her. He ought to be thankful he even had her at all, but _by_ _god_ , he wanted to give her everything all at once.

“You okay?” She looked over her shoulder.

“Aye.” He held her close. “Now, what’s yer favorite ice cream flavor?

Jamie learned she had her first kiss at 8, loves spicy food, is not a morning person, and chocolate chip cookie dough was preferred, but mint chocolate chip would do in a pinch.

Claire discovered he suffered from terrible motion sickness, did drink coffee, but was partial to tea, and was invisible to the opposite sex until well into his 20s. This last one caused her to nearly aspirate a donut sprinkle and she accused him of profound ignorance. And much to his dismay, upon learning all his names, she started to call him Jamphf.

And so it went. They spent the rest of the afternoon cuddled together, unraveling the secret of them.

 

**********

“Is Kitty paintin Fergus’ toenails?” Ellen Fraser squinted out Lallybroch’s kitchen window.

“Aye.” Brian put an arm around her shoulder. “Maybe the lass will be a creative, like ye and Jamie.”

“Hmm, have ye heard from our son?”

“Aye, he’ll be up tomorrow. Wants to borrow the Rover to go to the Fairy Hill.” Brian winked, “said ‘his new line is inspired by the nature of the Highlands’.”

“Oh,” Ellen squeezed his side, “he’s never mentioned nature as an inspiration for his work. Ye think she’s found him then?”

“I believe she has. Finally.” He kissed her temple. “Should we tell him?”

“Nay, let’s give em some time, wait till he brings Claire ‘round.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Gaelic = I’ll love you all my life, you and no one else. 
> 
> 😁 And if that’s not what it says, let just pretend it does. Lol. We’re in the homestretch now!


	16. The First Six Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first 1/2 of J&C’s first year together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Life and catching a super bad cold derailed my writing for a bit! I anticipate quite a few time jumps in the coming chapters! Thanks for reading😀🙂

”

Lallybroch – The Holidays 

“Fergus, _trobhad_!”

Jamie fastened the buttons of his quilted Barbour jacket as he kneeled and clasped a leash to the dog’s collar. Slamming the door of his Da’s ancient Rover, he looked up the small path leading to the stones at Craigh na Dun. Fergus whined as he sat near his owner’s leg. Jamie scratched his ear, “it’s okay, boy. I’ve finally lost my mind.” Fergus didn’t appreciate the joke.

Jamie did, in fact, feel ridiculous. Roaming around ancient stones in search of their connection to Claire? He chuckled to himself thinking of her face when he shared the story of _The_ _Woman_ _from_ _Balnain_. She was very respectful, listened carefully, but plainly thought it a fairytale – an eccentricity she was willing to accept to be with him. He prayed that’s all it was, but Frank was no fairytale.

He led Fergus slowly around the stones. Nothing unusual, nothing like what he experienced, or perhaps imagined, on Leòdhas. Suddenly, Fergus jerked away. Jamie followed his gaze to a large stone with a cleft. He moved toward the stone, but Fergus wouldn’t come. Jamie slackened the leash and touched the stone. A sudden vibration.

“Christ!”

Fergus growled and barked, ready to defend them both.  
  
Jamie realized it was the mobile in his pocket. He laughed at his foolishness, but his heart was still pounding when he checked the screen.

 **Stubborn** **Sassenach**  
Did you make it ok?

Jamie began to type a quick reply.

“ _A_ _mhac_!”

Jamie looked up to see Brian Fraser cresting the hill. He released the leash to allow Fergus to run to his father.

“Da, what are ye doing out here in the cold? Come, Mam will kill us both.”

“Oh, I wanted to see how yer research was goin’?” Brian patted Fergus’ head. “Any inspiration?”

“What? Och, no much. Let’s go.” Jamie led his father to the vehicles. “Da?”

Brian’s dark features trained on his son, “Aye?”

“Nothin’. Glad to see ye is all.”

 

  
London – Winter Date Day

  
“What was your favorite part?” Claire asked around a large bite of churro.

“The King lookin’ like a pompous jackass.” Jamie pulled her close and licked the cinnamon-sugar from her lips. “Lafayette was good too and of course Hamilton was a Scot.”

Claire smiled to herself as they walked through London’s West End. She wasn’t sure Alexander Hamilton was rightly identified as a Scot, but she knew better than to get between Jamie and the love of his country and its people.

“Thanks for skipping work to come to a matinee,” she grinned and grabbed his hand. “Tea?”

Since his return from Scotland, they’d been on four dates. On all four occasions their plans were modified because they ended up having sex before they could get out the door. Her physical need of him was only outpaced by his growing stranglehold on her heart. When she spoke, he listened. He wasn’t thinking about how to refute what she’d just said or what he planned to say next; he just listened. That simple act completely disarmed her.

But today, on their fifth date, Claire was determined to keep to their original plan. She made Jamie meet her at the theater - they could have sex after.

“Are ye sure we have time for tea? Ye said ye wanted to be at the hospital by 5am tomorrow?”

“Well, yes…”

“Because I plan to make ye quiver and scream my name at least twice.” He casually checked the time on his mobile. “And ye struggle to rise even after a full night of sleep, so…?”

 

Jamie’s Flat -Burns Night

Bloody hell!

Fergus whined in sympathy as he watched Claire stare helplessly in the large saucepan on the stove; pieces of exploded haggis floating to the surface.

She heard Jamie’s key in the door. _Shit_! _Shit_! _Shit_!

Fergus leapt to greet Jamie and provide Claire a minute to compose herself.

“Claire? What are ye….” His dining room table was draped in Grant colors; flowers, candles, and a bottle of whisky in the center.

He found her fashed in his kitchen. She was wearing a tartan skirt in MacDonald colors and a Cameron patterned head band.

“Happy Burns Night,” she blurted as she nervously blocked his view of the stove.

Every time Jamie thought it impossible to love her more, his heart simply grew more chambers for her to fill. He glanced over her shoulder at the ruined haggis, then gathered her in his arms. “Happy Burns Night to ye.” He brushed ground oatmeal from her cheek. “Dinna worry over the food,” he touched her headband, “yer an ignorant sassenach, ye need training is all.”

She smiled, “I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “‘Tis perfect, truly. Come, let’s have a dram.”

“I really must love you to drink that battery acid.”

Jamie felt a pain in his chest – another chamber added.

She wound her hands around his neck, “I love you, Jamie.”

  
Hospital Lounge \- Valentine’s Day

“Is that…it canna be?” Geillis asked in wonder.

Claire brushed the powdered sugar from her chest and held up a pair of scrubs.

“The man sends ye flowers, donuts _and_ designer scrubs?!”

Claire smiled as her fingers traced the soft tartan lining. She grabbed the note, Geillis looking over her shoulder.

 

_Sassenach_

_To keep you warm when I’m not with you & to help with your training - these are Fraser colors!_

_Happy Valentine’s Day_

_J_

 

Jamie’s Flat -Milan Fashion Week

“Yer sure it’s alright? Marsali or my sister..”

“It’s fine,” Claire pushed him toward the door, “you know I love Fergus. Hurry, you’ll miss your flight.”

“Okay, I’ll call ye when I land.” Jamie pulled her in for a kiss, “once more?”

“James Fraser, I will not be responsible for you missing your own show. Go!”

“I’ll be quick.” His hands dropped to her arse.

She snorted and nipped his ear, “I’m not interested in quick. And here, don’t forget your sketchbook.”

“It’s for ye – the designs I’m showing.”

He’d never before let her see one of his sketchbooks. Claire tucked the book under arm. “I’ll miss you, Jamie. Come back to me.”

“Always.”

Once he left, she curled on his sofa and opened the book. She sniffed as she knuckled away tears. There were dozens of drawings - dresses, trousers, skirts – all in different colors and textures, but always her. She could see the mole on her back, or the smile that broke free when he called her sassenach, her hair in the wind, her crooked pinky finger. She fell asleep, Jamie’s book clutched to her chest, Fergus at her feet.

  
Jamie’s office \- A Spring Day at HF

“Ssshhh.” Claire’s hand went to Jamie’s mouth. “Someone will hear you.” She ducked back under his desk and between his legs.

“Let em. They all know.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Up, up. I want ye from behind.”

Jamie helped her to stand in her stilettos and flipped her around.

“What do you mean, ‘they all know’?” Claire asked over her shoulder as he kneaded her bottom.

She felt him chuckle against her back as he pushed her thighs further apart.

“Sassenach, ye show up here in nothing but yer wee trench coat, stilettos, and the look of determination on yer face. They all know what yer about.”

“Wot?!” She turned around, eyes to her hairline.

“Come now,” he kissed her nose, “ye know that’s why ye do it – so everyone knows I belong to ye.” He flipped her around once more. “And I dinna mean for ye to waste yer time doing so.”

She groaned loudly as he thrust home.

 

  
“Claire.” Marsali and John said in unison as Claire emerged from Jamie’s office.

Claire pulled the knot tighter on her trench, nodded in response, and causally walked toward the exit.

A few moments later, Jamie appeared. Marsali laughed, rolled her eyes and walked to the back row of computers. John handed Jamie a tablet of new designs, “so does Claire have a brother?”

  
Speyside Whisky Festival, Scotland – Jamie’s birthday

“We could go to the Seeldh?” Claire pointed to the brochure as Jamie pulled the hired Rover up to their B&B.

“Ceilidh, lass. And that we could.”

She leaned over and kissed him, “ceilidh, huh? Well, you choose – your birthday, my treat.”

***  
Jamie smiled as Claire pretended to drink her dram. She was so stubborn. He tried to dissuade her from gifting him a whisky festival for his birthday, but she insisted she would grow to appreciate the drink. Jamie decided to hedge his bets and secreted three bottles of wine in his suitcase.

“I need the loo,” Claire whispered in Jamie’s ear. “Do you want the rest of this?”

“Aye.” Jamie took her dram and watched her arse as she disappeared into the crowd.

***

  
“Is that yer match? The tall ginger lad?”

Claire turned while washing her hands. A small, mousey brown haired woman stood at her side.

“I suppose he is.”

“Och, dinna worry. I’m no tryin to take yer man, it’s quite clear that would be impossible. I’ve just never seen a matched pair from the same side. Rare.”

Claire took a step back.

The woman’s grey eyes moved to the silver strands at Claire’s temple, “‘tis okay, my cousins are travelers also. Do ye dream of going? Where is your other?”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Claire brushed past the woman.

****

  
“Sassenach, what’s wrong?” Her skin was cold, her whisky eyes gone drab.

“Too many Scots,” she laughed weakly. “Do you mind if we leave?”

  
Lallybroch\- Summer

Claire’s grip tightened on the strap of her crossbody as she stared out the windshield. Today was the day she was to meet Jamie’s parents at his childhood home. She tried to focus on Jamie’s words, but all she could hear was the thrum of her heartbeat in her ears.

“Claire? Come, ‘tis just my parents. They’ll love ye as I do.”

“But what if…I…Jamie I don’t have a family! What if I do it wrong?”

Jamie reached over to fix the wide collar of her jumper. “They’re easy, ‘tis my sister ye’ll have to prepare for.” He tried to wink and unclipped her seatbelt.

Claire grabbed his hand and followed him up the gravel walkway. Her pace slowed as she took in the enormity of Lallybroch. “You grew up here? Can we see the tower?”

“I’ll show ye round the grounds after. The weather’s nice. I’d like to see yer bare skin against the heather.”

“That’s not what I want to see!” She began poking him on the side. “You can set your bare arse on some sticky plant.”

“Jamie!” Brian Fraser waved from the doorway.

Claire would be damned if she’d cower behind Jamie. She straightened her shoulders and walked directly toward Jamie’s father. “Hullo Mr. Fraser, it’s so lovely to meet you. Please, call me Claire.” She felt Jamie’s hand on her lower back.

“Likewise, lass. And it’s Brian.”

His handshake was firm and his voice was warm honey, just like Jamie’s. She stood still as he looked her over. He glanced to Jamie and a broad smile transformed his face. In that moment, they could have been brothers. Brian engulfed Claire in a bear hug.

“I’m so very glad yer here Claire. We wondered when…”

“Da! Dinna smother her.” Jamie chuckled.

Brian released Claire. “Sorry, sorry. Come inside.” He turned and went inside.

Jamie touched Claire’s arm. “Are ye alright? Dinna know what’s gotten in to him.”

She brushed a curl behind her ear, a slight blush on her cheeks. “It’s okay, haven’t you brought home a _lass_ before?” She teased.

His eyes narrowed, “no, yer the first.”

Pleased, she wrapped her arm around his and pulled him inside. They were met by Ellen in the large open living room area.

“Hello, dear. We’ve been waiting for Jamie to bring ye around.”

Claire stared. The resemblance was unmistakable. She was as beautiful as Jamie was handsome. Tall and regal, she reached out and touched the swatch of silver at Claire’s temple. “Ye’ve a long time still.” Claire remained silent. “Yer eyes are remarkable..’tis almost a shame yer bairns will have Jamie’s color.”

“Christ! Mam!” Jamie nervously laughed and tried to pull Claire away from his mother.

Claire wouldn’t budge.

“It’s okay.” Claire reached out and grabbed Ellen’s hands. She was jolted by cold than warmth.

Jamie watched in confusion as the two women seemed to silently communicate.

Brian brought a hand to Jamie’s shoulder, “come son, I’ve somethin ye need to see.”

Jamie hesitated.

“Dinna worry, yer Mam will look after Claire.”

With a backward glance, Jamie followed his father to the attic. He hadn’t stepped foot in the attic since he was wee.

“Give me a hand, will ye? Brian was struggling with a large chest.

Jamie rushed over to help his father pull the chest into the light.

“Da, what…”

“Do ye love Claire?”

Jamie looked toward the attic stairway. “Aye.”

“Ye want to marry her?”

“Da, I’m grown. Whatever talk ye’ve been preparin’..”

“Ken everythin’ do ye?” Brian smiled and opened the chest. He pulled out a plaid, “here, do ye recognize it?”

Jamie ran the well worn plaid across his hands. MacKenzie colors. It was nearly threadbare and the ends were frayed. He moved it closer to his face. There was something odd about its smell and the color was muted, but not from age, it was as though it had been improperly dyed.

“When yer Mam was pregnant, she would wrap herself in that plaid and sing to ye. When you were born, ye wouldna sleep unless that plaid was around ye or in yer crib.”

“I dinna remember.” Jamie sat down the plaid as Brian handed Jamie a thick woolen skirt. It too was unusual. He checked the seams- it wasn’t commercially made.

“Yer Mam loved to show ye that. I thinks it’s why ye took to clothes.”

“Da?”

Brian placed a women’s corset in his son’s hands. “What do ye see lad?”

Jamie eyes dropped to the garment. It was an accurate representation of stays used by mid 18th century Scottish women of high birth. There were no zippers or metal clasps. Jamie ran his finger along an edge of frayed material. He felt a sharp pain as the whale bone nicked his finger.

Jamie bunched the corset in his hands, denying the truth of it.

“Da, what is this? Where did ye..”

“They’re yer mother’s. She was wearing them when I found her; when she came through the stones.

 


	17. The MacKenzie Plaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire learn more about her connection to the Stones

”

 

“Here, have a seat lad,” Brian soothed.

Jamie glared, “why would ye say such a thing?” He threw the corset in the chest and snatched the plaid back into his hands.

“Because tis true, son. Havena ye ever wondered why yer Mam has no people? How’s she different?”

“No. No!...” Jamie began to rub the plaid in his hands; seeking to understand how it was constructed.

“I found her shivering and scared coming down from the Fairy Hill. She fainted when I started the car.”

“I’m no listening to this.” Jamie turned to leave.

“Tis us! We pull them from the Stones.”

 

Jamie stopped at the ladder. His hands wound in the plaid; he wanted to block out what he knew his father would tell him, wanted to pretend he didn’t already know.

“Jamie, Claire is yer mate. She came to ye because of the Stones. Because she can travel through them. Ye know, don’t ye – seen her near them, maybe?”

Brian slowly approached his son. Jamie didn’t turn around nor did he try to leave.

“Ye never wanted all the things ye want wi yer Claire, aye? I remember how tis was wi your Mam. I realize now I was biding my time till she came for me.”

“Da, I dinna understand…”

“Son, I dinna ken how it works myself, but the men in our family — our women find us from the Stones. Well, mostly. It skipped yer grandshire and his father before that, but for a very long time tis how it was for Frasers.”

Jamie looked over his shoulder, “how do ye ken that?”

“I’ve had a very long time to try to puzzle it out and,” he chuckled, “the benefit of 21st century research capabilities. From what I know, they come and choose to stay for us – no other reason. Yer Mam well…”

Jamie heard an unusual hesitancy in his father’s voice, he turned.

“Yer Mam was already marrit when she came. To her Other, but she stayed for me.”

“Her Other? Did she..”

“Aye, she..loved him, but well, he wouldna made her happy. The Other pushes them to the Stones. It’s their link to their time. Yer Mam was running away from her husband when she chanced upon the Stones. But, as crazy as it sounds, we needed the Other for yer Mam to find me.”

Jamie stood still to absorb this.

 

“Da, it isna the same wi’ Claire. She didna come from the Stones.”

Brian turned and began to close the chest.

“Da?”

“Let’s go speak wi’ yer Mam.”

“Da? Did ye hear me? What arena ye no tellin’ me? If it’s about Claire, please. Please.”

Brian looked at his son; a man grown and successful, but all he saw was his five year old bairn, wi bright blue eyes, that he’d die to protect and keep from pain. “Almost always the matched pair are from different times, but sometimes, like yer Claire, she’s already here with her Other.”

Jamie pushed Frank from his mind. “And..” he prodded

“She’ll leave ye to go through the Stones.”

Jamie blinked and backed away.

“She willna want to,” Brian added quickly, “she has to, she’ll do it for ye.”

“No!” Jamie roared. “No! Claire isna going near the Stones. Not ever!”

“She has to – ye canna change it.”

Jamie tore from the attic.

  
  
****

 

“Och, look at this one.” Ellen handed a photograph to Claire as they were huddled together on the sofa before Lallybroch’s massive hearth. It was Jamie at maybe 9 or 10. He was biting his lip in concentration while trying to shear a sheep. “Handful that one. Got it in his head he was goin to make his own wool jumper. Drove Brian and me near insane.”

Claire laughed, “Precocious?”

“Aye, get yer sleep now.” Ellen touched Claire’s arm.

Other than Jamie, Claire couldn’t recall having such an affinity for another person. Like Jamie, her touch was welcome and full of promise.

“Claire!” Both women jumped at the sound of Jamie’s voice.

Claire instantly recognized his tone, she’d heard it only once before, when he found her at the Stones. It was full of desperation and horror. She made to stand, but Ellen pulled her back and pushed a paper in her hand.

“Tis my number, call anytime, anytime at all.”

Claire then stood and saw Jamie entering the hallway. He eyes were wide, one fist curled, the other holding what looked like a tartan blanket.

“Ja..”

“Let’s go. Now!” His voice was harsh.

“Wot?” Claire noticed Brian was not with him.

“We’re leavin! Ye’ll do as I say! Come!”

Claire felt fury rise in her chest.

Ellen placed a hand on Claire’s neck, ‘tis alright. He’s had a shock. Go. And remember what I said.”

 

Claire slowly followed Jamie outside. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you!? Don’t speak to…”

He ignored her, grabbed her arm and began walking to their Rover. His pace increased and she couldn’t keep up. Claire stopped and yanked her arm free. “What is wrong with you?! How could you be so rude to your parents?”

Jamie reached for her arm again and she pulled away.

“Will ye no trust me once! Will ye no argue and do what I tell ye! Get in the car!”

Claire felt her hand tingle with the urge to slap him. She looked around. Had she been in London, she would have left him where he stood and made her own way back. If she thought she could outrun him, she would have gotten to the Rover and drove off without him. With tears of frustration threatening to fall, she said nothing and walked to the Rover.

Claire struggled with her seatbelt as Jamie made a tight turn in Lallybroch’s driveway and sped away. He seemed unable to keep the Rover straight on the road. “Let me out. Did you hear me, Jamie! Stop!”

Jamie seemed to recognize her for the first time since he followed his father into the attic.

He pulled to the side of the road and watched Claire run from him. Less than a year ago, Jamie would have told anyone who asked that he lived a full and satisfying life; family, job, friends, even G. Now he knew that life to be no more than an illusion. Everything was better with Claire. He felt more confident, he was more creative, more secure in his decisions. He was supported, but not flattered. If he was wrong, she’d tell him. She’d taken his heart and soul and kept it safe. For that, he owed her. It was his responsibility to see her safe, to keep her close and protected, and he’d just failed her.

 

  
Claire blindly ran into the heather until she reached a small shielded clearing. The sun touched her neck, just as Ellen’s fingers had done moments before. _Was_ _this_ _the_ _end_? Her hand covered her heart. She tried to reconcile the man who comforted her late into the night with the man who just treated her like a piece of property.

She heard the unmistakable sound of Jamie’s footsteps across the clearing.

“Sassenach…”

“Don’t call me that!” She turned to face him.

“Alright. Claire. Will ye come back to the car?”

She scoffed, “I’m waiting for anything approaching an apology and an explanation.”

Jamie tried to commit her to memory; her musk after they made love, her smile when she teased him, her curly wig when she awoke, the color of eyes that shifted with her mood.

“Claire, I’m tryna keep ye safe. I didna mean..”

“Safe? From your parents?”  
  
He closed his eyes. “The Stones.” He expected to feel her brush past him, but felt nothing. A lifetime passed between each beat of his heart; he had no backup plan should she leave him. An aching hollowness settled in his chest. Could he go back to being half a person? He opened his eyes.

She hadn’t left. Her hair was free from constraint and curled wildly about her face, but she said nothing. He watched her hand shake as she brushed a curl from her face. But she didn’t leave. Blood flowed to his heart once more.

Jamie explained what his father had said. But still she stayed and still she remained silent.

“Claire, did ye hear me?”

“Yes, Jamie I heard you.” She turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder. “You saw the clothes?”

“Aye, they were real.”

“Well, I already promised not to go near the stones.” She started to walk back to the car.

“Sass..Claire, Claire,” Jamie caught her easily. “Do ye believe me?”

“I believe you didn’t trust me to explain. I believe you treated me like I’m one of your dresses.”

She continued walking.

“Claire, I’m sorry. Yer right. I wasna thinkin’ – I just wanted to get ye away.”

She stopped. “Do you believe I love you?”

“O’ course..”

“Then why would I ever leave you – especially to what – travel to some other time?” Her voice was distant and full of disappointment. “I’ve never wanted to be away from you until right now.”

He knew he deserved it, but it felt like she was ripping out his guts.

“Please take me home.”

Jamie followed her back to the Rover.

She slid in and looked in the backseat where he’d thrown the plaid. She brought it forward and ran it across her hands.

“Claire?”

“I’ve seen this before… it was in a dream…after our first night together.”

Jamie watched her bring the plaid to her nose.

“I was wearing it. I was cold and dirty, climbing in the dirt…up a hill. It had the same hole in the spot just here.”

Claire pushed her back against the door and began to hug herself.

Jamie reached out, “please, Claire, come to me.”

She hesitated and her eyes filled with tears. “This is happening to me, not you!”

“I ken..”

“No, no you don’t! You don’t _ken_ anything! You were going to what…hmm? Drag me away and lock me in your flat? You and Frank!”

Jamie’s eyes snapped to hers at the mention of the bastard. “Dinna compare me him!” He bellowed.

“Why not? Frank wanted to send me to the Stones…to my destiny! He didn’t explain anything either. I guess he was ‘protecting’ me also. Maybe I should call him?”

Jamie pounded the steering wheel and he turned to her, the veins visible in his temple and neck. “You _will_ not.”

Claire scoffed, reaching for the door handle. “I don’t have to do what you tell me. I don’t belong to you!”

“Aye, ye do!” Jamie grabbed her wrist.

“Let go of me, you fucking bastard!” Claire wrestled free and got out of the Rover.

“ _Ifrinn_.” Jamie ran around the car and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Claire! Ye stubborn woman. Ye do belong to me..and I belong to you.” He let go, desperately trying to control the whirlwind of emotions in his mind and heart. “Ye ken that, ye do. Ye told me, aye?”

Claire looked away, her jaw set.

“I love ye. I will always love ye.”

Her chin began to wobble, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry the way I treated ye. It was wrong, but it is my job to protect ye. Just as it’s yers to protect me?”

She sniffled and wiped away tears.

“Yer right, I dinna ken anythin’ at all about this. But I ken we’re bound. I ken Randall was using ye for some reason.” He sighed, “I only want for ye to be happy and safe wi’ me at yer side.”

He threw the car keys at her feet.

“But if ye think Randall or anyone else can help ye more, I willna hinder ye. I can find my way back.”

 

Claire picked up the keys and studied them. She walked to the Rover, threw the keys inside, and pulled out the plaid. “Come with me?” She entwined her hand with his.

He followed her back to the clearing. She laid the plaid down and pulled the jumper over her head. “Make love to me?” She unhooked her bra.

Jamie looked around.

“No one will see, I just need to be with you.” Her hands began to unbutton her trousers.

Jamie took her then. At first it was rough as they reclaimed each other, then slow as they savored their chance at connection; each knowing that destiny meant to sever their bond.

 

  
“Forgive me?” Claire asked as they lay spent and sheltered in the plaid.

“Aye. Do you forgive me too?”

“Yes.”

They fell quiet and Claire hugged his middle.

“I’m scared, Jamie.”

He gathered her tighter. “Aye, me too.”

 


End file.
